


If Only

by sadtomato



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-08
Updated: 2011-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:56:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 49,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadtomato/pseuds/sadtomato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward likes girls. Jake likes boys. It's never been a problem for them as best friends and roommates. What happens when the lines start to blur? Can your love for your best friend become something more?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Showing Off

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on FFN.

"You going out tonight?" Edward asks, walking past my bedroom door with an open beer in his hand. He's not wearing a shirt, just a pair of black sweatpants hanging low on his hips. I try to keep my eyes on the mirror and not on his chest. I'm definitely not going to look at the plane of his stomach, or at the drawstring hanging loose and untied at his waist.

"Yeah, just having some drinks with Seth," I answer, twisting my collar to make it look appropriately disheveled. Edward takes a sip of his beer and then grins.

"Are you having drinks with Seth or are you having drinks with Seth?" he asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. He knows Seth and I have fooled around a few times-mostly just drunken, fumbling makeout sessions before we pass out-but we've never really dated. We're not really compatible in that regard, but Edward can't seem to wrap his brain around that.

"Having drinks, asshole," I answer, throwing a balled up pair of socks at his head. He's still grinning, that cocky fucking grin that he gets whenever he teases me about boys. "Probably just going down the street to Bar 54 and then maybe the clubs later, if we feel like it."

Edward starts making techno music with his mouth-trying to beatbox a little and mixing in some awful, screechy whooping sounds. "Sounds like fun," he says, when his performance is over.

"You wanna come?" I offer. The clubs Seth and I frequent really aren't his scene, but he's come out a few times just for the hell of it.

"Nah," he says, taking another pull of his beer. "I'm just gonna hang out here. I'm burned out from last night. Watch a movie or something, crash early."

"Cool," I answer, masking my disappointment. It's not like I expected him to say yes... but it would have made the evening a lot more fun. He pushes away from my doorway with his hand and waves with his beer.

"Have fun. Call me if you need a ride," he says. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

I snort at his warning, because there are definitely things I could get into tonight that he would never do.

Edward's been my roommate for three years, and he's become my best friend. He lets me cry on his shoulder every time a boy breaks my heart. He marched with me in a gay rights demonstration last year. He comes to gay bars with me so I don't have to go alone, and he's the best fucking wingman I've ever had.

But he's straight.

And sometimes, like tonight, when he's all rumpled and sleepy and grinning and teasing me-all I want to do is pull him into my bed, kiss him, touch him, worship him with my mouth. But as cool as Edward is, all open and accepting and loving my big gay self, he's not gay.

He's got a different girl every week, always the hottest of the hot. He loves fucking them, too-I can hear it through the paper-thin walls of our apartment. The loud moaning, his muffled voice saying what I'm sure are filthy things, the headboard banging against the wall with such force... I can only imagine Edward making me moan, talking dirty to me, fucking me that hard.

Seth is being a whiny bitch at the bar.

"Ohmigod," he whines. "Let's just go to Exxxcess. It will be fun. There are always cute boys there!" He takes a sip of his drink-some kind of Appletini bullshit-and gives me his pouty face.

"Ugh, gross, I hate that place. Why can't we just stay here? This is fun." I'm enjoying the bar we're in now; the atmosphere is relaxed, despite the sizable crowd

"Yuck, too many straight boys," he complains, looking around the room. There are a fair number of straight guys, and girls for that matter, in this bar. I'm sure he's looking to hook up, so he wants to improve his odds... I'm just not that motivated to meet someone tonight. "Come on, Jakey, let's go," he says, tugging on my arm.

"I just got a beer. Let me finish it, at least," I argue, hoping I can stall him for a little while longer. He downs the last of his bright green martini and sets the glass down on the bar.

"Fine, I'm gonna use the bathroom. Drink fast," he commands, before slipping through a throng of people to head to the back of the bar. I ignore him and sip my beer slowly, leaning back in my bar stool to look around the room. I listen to the conversations going on around me, I watch the bartenders, I count the bottles of liquor on the shelf above the bar.

When I take the last sip of my beer, I realize Seth's been gone a long time-at least fifteen minutes. I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and find a text from Seth:

Met a guy in the bathroom. Going to a house party. He's so fucking hot!

He doesn't apologize for ditching me, or skipping out on his bar tab. I settle the bill with the bartender and text Seth back:

Have fun, be safe.

It's not the first time he's ditched me for a guy, but I can't be too upset-I've done it too. I'm mostly relieved that I don't have to drag my ass to a club tonight.

I push my way through the crowds and out into the night air, taking a deep breath as soon as I'm free. I walk the few blocks to my apartment and let myself in, expecting to find Edward sprawled on the couch with a beer.

The living room is quiet, though. The TV is off. The lights are all off, except for one lamp that Edward's clearly left on for me. I grab myself a beer from the kitchen and head to my bedroom, resigned to a night of Internet porn and getting myself off. I walk past Edward's room and pause; the door is open, which is unusual.

All of the lights are off, but the city lights and moonlight streaming through his window illuminate him perfectly. He's lying in bed, a dark grey sheet covering him up to his waist. His eyes are closed, but he's clearly still awake. What draws my attention-aside from his exposed chest-is the hand that's under that sheet. The movement at his crotch.

I hold my breath, desperate to stay quiet so he doesn't stop. My heart starts pounding, probably to accommodate all the extra blood rushing to my dick. I can feel it getting harder, pushing against the front of my jeans, and I fleetingly imagine Edward stroking my cock like he's stroking his own.

He moves his free hand under the sheet too, and groans a little as he changes his technique. I can't see exactly what he's doing, but it looks like he's playing with his balls too. Fuck, that's hot. I turn my body slightly so I'm pressed against the door jamb; thrusting my hips against it relieves some of the ache in my dick. My cheek is leaning against the cool wood, and I take slow, shallow breaths as I watch Edward pleasure himself.

He curses a little under his breath and shifts on the bed, switching hands. My eyes are locked on the movement under his sheet, and I want more than anything for that sheet to be gone. I let my eyes flicker up to his abs, his chest, his tight, pale nipples. I want to lick them, bite them. I want to bite his collarbones, nip at his throat, suck hard until his skin is bruised. Oh, and his fucking Adam's apple... I want to lick that too, and nuzzle it with my nose, and scrape my teeth over it. When I finally let myself look back up at his face, my body jerks back from the doorway in shock.

His eyes are open, and staring right into mine.

He grins, and I'm about to apologize, but I notice that the movement under the sheet hasn't stopped.

He's still doing it. He's still jerking off, right in front of me, and he knows that I'm watching. The thought makes me infinitely fucking harder, and I decide that I'm not going to be the first one to walk away. If he doesn't want me to watch, he'll stop doing what he's doing.

My breath hitches when I see his right hand reappear from under the sheet. Fuck. He's going to stop.

His left hand is still moving though, so I have hope. His right hand rests on his stomach, his fingertips scratching lazily at the trail of hair there. God, that little fucking happy trail that taunts me every fucking day. I want to press my face into it, kiss it, feel the scratchy little hairs against my cheek.

I start to wonder what he's thinking-worrying that maybe he's slowing down and waiting for me to leave-but he's still smiling. Still touching himself. Still letting me watch.

The palm of his right hand flattens on his belly, and he slides it down lower. I think it's going under the sheet again, but this time... this time he catches the edge of the sheet in his fingertips and pushes it down. Right over the hard line of his dick, over where his left hand is squeezing and rolling his balls.

This time, I can't stop myself from moaning. He's so thick, so fucking hard, and I can see the pre-cum all smeared around the head of his cock. I've seen Edward's dick before, but not like this. Not hard and leaking and so fucking sexy.

I want to wrap my lips around it from the side and kiss up the length of it. I want it in my mouth, down my throat, filling me up. I want to smell him, taste him, consume him.

He's amused by my reaction. His low chuckle registers, even though I can't look away from his dick. His right hand joins his left, wrapping around his shaft, and he groans. When I manage to look up at his face, I see that his smirk is gone. His mouth is open now, his tongue touching his bottom lip, his eyes trained on his hands working his cock.

I watch with him-because he's letting me. Because he wants me to.

He strokes with his right hand and his left hand moves around-tugging on his balls, twisting over the head of his dick, squeezing the base of his cock while the other hand flies over the tip.

I'm painfully hard now, my own cock begging for some of the attention that Edward's is getting. I have a feeling that this would end badly, though, if I pulled it out and started stroking it. That it might change this for Edward; make it a gay thing instead of an exhibitionist thing, and maybe he'd stop. I can't let him stop. I need to see him cum.

So I just lean against that door jamb, shifting when the pressure becomes unbearable, ignoring the cold beer sweating in my hand. Watching him get himself off.

Edward's moving faster now, his hand flying over his cock. His breath is coming in short gasps, and I know he's close. His hips start moving, thrusting up against the motion of his hand, and the sight of it almost makes me cum in my pants.

It's the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen.

I want to be sitting on that cock, want him thrusting up into me. I want to make him pant and groan and call out my name.

He's close, he's grunting and panting with the effort of fucking his own fist. He's been watching himself work, but as he gets closer to his orgasm I can feel his eyes on me. I know he's looking at me. When I tear myself away from his cock-when I stop gawking for just a second, and look into his eyes-he cries out a loud, "Fuck!"

"Coming, coming," he moans, his hips bucking as his cum spurts out over his hand, his cock, his stomach. I whimper, unable to look away from his face until he closes his eyes in pleasure. When he does, I watch him draw out the rest of his orgasm. He pulls his cock slowly, draining every last bit of cum. His free hand draws circles in the thick liquid that landed on his stomach, rubbing it into his skin.

I'm mesmerized, watching as his dick softens, watching as he lets it fall against his thigh. He chuckles as he comes down from his orgasmic high and finds me still standing in his doorway, watching.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed, still fully naked, and moves toward me. I should move. I need to get out of the way. Edward's getting closer, and he still hasn't said anything, I need to fucking move, but I'm afraid that if I move-or breathe, or think, or feel a slight breeze-I'll cum. I close my eyes and try to calm myself down, just enough for me to make it back to my own bedroom before I can explode.

Edward opens his door wide and starts to move past me, probably heading for the bathroom. He pauses, grins, and lifts his finger to my lips. I jump in surprise, but he isn't phased. He wipes his finger, still covered with his cum, along my bottom lip. It rests there for just a second, and I wonder if he'll let me suck on it. Let me lick him clean.

He pulls it away before I get the courage, and walks past me. As soon as he moves, my tongue darts out to swipe the cum from my bottom lip. Fuck, it's salty and thick and so fucking good. I turn my head in time to get a look at his ass, firm and round, as he saunters into the bathroom. He turns and winks at me as he closes the door.

I fly down the hall, into my own bedroom, unbuttoning my fly as I move. Before the door clicks shut behind me, my hand is in my boxer briefs, pulling out my cock. I don't bother to get undressed, to lie down, to move away from the door. I just squeeze, and stroke, and twist my fingers around the head just like Edward did.

I hear him moving around in the bathroom, hear the water running and the toilet flushing. I ignore those sounds and think of Edward's moans, his grunts as he fisted his cock. The sound of his voice as he looked into my eyes and said, "Fuck."

The bathroom door opens, and I hear the old wooden floor creak as Edward walks past my bedroom. The footsteps stop, and I imagine him right outside my door, still naked. I imagine his palm pressed against the wood as he stops to listen. The idea of him being so close again pushes me over the edge, and I groan as I feel my orgasm rip through me.

My dick is still twitching, my cum still spilling over my hand, when I hear the floorboards creak again on the other side of the door.

"Night, Jake!" Edward calls, chuckling as he walks down the hall.


	2. Dancing

"Do you want a beer, Jake?" Edward shouts, leaning close to my ear so I can hear him over the thump thump thump of the bass in this club. I nod enthusiastically, and he fist bumps me before pushing through the crowd, moving in the direction of the bar.

I watch him disappear, gliding easily between sweaty, grinding men who try to get him to stop and dance. Edward's never bothered when he gets attention in gay clubs. Sometimes he stops to dance before politely moving on, other times he just flashes them a grin and keeps walking. He's never been one of those straight guys that gets freaked out by attention from another man-but then again, nothing really phases him. I would kill for a fraction of the confidence that Edward Cullen has.

When I can't see his wavy bronze hair bobbing through the crowd anymore, I start dancing again. The music is so loud that I can feel every note reverberating in my bones, the beat changing the rhythm of my pulse to match. I lift my arms over my head, close my eyes, and move my hips to the rhythm.

Someone wraps an arm around my waist, spins me around to dance with him, and I open my eyes. He's a nice-looking guy, handsome enough, but not really my type-he's wearing a leather vest, for Christ's sake. I smile politely and dance with him, keeping my distance so he won't get too interested. I look over his shoulder, scanning the crowd, and my eyes immediately lock on a familiar figure. Paul.

I spin around quickly, hoping to escape him, and push my way towards the bar. I think I hear Leather Vest Guy calling after me, but it's impossible to tell when the music is so invasive. Thankfully there's a door between this part of the club and the lounge area; you can still hear the music when you're at the bar, but it's also possible to hold a conversation.

I find Edward at the bar, leaning against the counter with a twenty in his hand. He always says that's the secret to getting great service at a bar; pay with cash, have it ready, tip well. I think it helps that he's fucking gorgeous and flirts like a two-dollar hooker with every bartender in town.

He smiles when I tap him on the shoulder. "It'll just be a sec, I should be next," he says, nodding towards the bartender working his way down the row. When he turns to look at me, his eyes widen when he registers the panic on my face. "What's wrong, J?"

"Paul," I explain, jerking my head towards the dance floor. Edward straightens up, looking over my shoulder to the doors I just came through.

"Did he say anything to you?" he seethes, his jaw set in anger. Edward was there for me when I was dating Paul, talked me through all of the drama of our relationship, kept me from losing my shit when I walked into Paul's apartment and found him going down on his ex-boyfriend. Paul was never interested in my life or my friends, and he never even bothered to come over and meet my roommate, my closest friend.

Edward was the one who helped me pick up the pieces of my broken heart. He was probably more pissed about Paul hurting me than I was.

"No, no, I don't even know if he saw me," I tell him, although I'm almost sure we locked eyes for a second. I lay my palm flat on Edward's chest to keep him from charging past me.

"Motherfucker," Edward says, shaking his head. The bartender snaps his fingers, trying to get Edward's attention now that it's his turn in line. He leans over the bar to order, and I catch the guy in line next to us staring at his ass. I can't blame him; Edward's ass is perfect. It's out of this fucking world.

I'm feeling kind of possessive of his ass, though. I know he's not my boyfriend-I know he'll never belong to me-but I don't want any other men looking at him. I take a step closer, blocking the other guy's view.

When Edward straightens up and turns around, I'm too close. We're nose to nose. He just smiles, hands me a beer, and jerks his head toward an empty table. "Let's sit," he suggests, pushing me backwards.

We claim the table and take a minute to look around. Well, Edward looks around. I watch the door to the club area, waiting for Paul to come through.

"Do you wanna leave?" Edward asks, leaning closer so we can talk.

"No, man," I answer, shaking my head vehemently. "I'm not gonna let him drive me from somewhere I wanna be. Fuck him," I insist, taking a long pull from my beer.

"Fucking A!" Edward says, holding his bottle up to clink with mine. Just as I tilt my head back to take another sip, I spot Paul walking to the bar. He's craning his neck, looking around, and I just know he's looking for me.

Edward notices my sudden tension, the way I'm purposefully staring down at the bottle in my hands. "Is that him? That asshole?" he asks, shifting in his seat.

"Yeah, but listen, let's just leave him alone. Unless he comes over to talk to me or something. Let's just ignore him, okay?" I implore, resting my hand on Edward's forearm. "He probably just wants attention." I notice that Edward's wearing a fitted button down, and the cuffs are rolled up just enough for me to see the bluish veins on his wrist through his pale skin. I'm struck with the urge to kiss them.

"He's not coming over here but he's fucking staring at you. Just let me go like, punch him in the kidney. Or accidentally break his nose. C'mon, Jake, he deserves it." Edward's smiling, one eyebrow raised in jest, but I know without a doubt that he'd do it for me if I asked him to.

"No, I don't want to hurt him. I just want to ignore him. I just wish..." I trail off, shaking my head mid-sentence. "Nevermind," I add.

"What do you wish?" Edward asks, his red lips wrapping around the mouth of his beer bottle again. I groan at the sight of them, the million fantasies I've had about kissing him flashing before my eyes.

"I wish I wasn't alone," I tell him simply, shrugging my shoulders. I wish Paul could see me happy, loved, and being adored by someone. Preferably someone much hotter than him.

"What am I, chopped liver?" Edward asks, his eyes sparkling playfully.

"No, no, that's not what I meant, E. I just meant that I was here with someone. A date. To make him... jealous," I admit. I pick at the edge of the label in front of me, peeling it back from the brown glass.

"We can make that happen," Edward says confidently, and I start to protest. I don't want him running around trying to hook me up, playing wingman, introducing me to strange guys. I don't feel up to meeting people right now.

But when I look up at Edward, he's much closer than he was a second ago. He's scooted his chair closer to mine, so our thighs are almost pressed together. He leans into me and brushes his fingers over my cheekbone, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Is this alright?" he murmurs. "I only know how to flirt with girls." He lets his fingers settle on my bicep, squeezing it gently before dropping his hand to rest it on top of mine.

"Y-y-y-yeah," I answer, wincing at the sound of my own voice. I'm so obviously flustered by such a small thing, such an innocent touch. "Yeah. Is he, uh, still looking?" I ask, my eyes trained on Edward's hand. Edward is practically holding my fucking hand.

"Yeah," he says. He leans in slowly, resting his head on my shoulder, and I feel his warm breath on my neck. He nuzzles me there a little, moving his head around, and then I hear him ask, "Does it look like I'm kissing your neck?"

Truthfully, I have no fucking idea what it looks like, but it feels amazing. I can feel his lips brushing against my skin when he talks, and my cock is getting so hard so fast that I'm worried it's gonna rip through my pants.

"I... I think so," I tell him. I glance up at Paul, to make sure he's still looking, and find him leaning against the bar. He's definitely watching us, and he's definitely pissed. I can't help the smile that spreads over my face. I let my right hand drift up and into Edward's hair, twisting it through the soft strands like I've fantasized about so many times.

Abruptly, Paul slams back the rest of the drink in his hands and stomps back into the club.

"Is he still watching?" Edward asks, and I consider lying. I consider holding him tightly against me, breathing him in, keeping him close to me for as long as he'll let me.

"No, he went back in," I answer, dropping my hand as Edward lifts his head. He lifts his beer bottle to his lips and downs the rest of it in one long, sexy gulp. I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows, and I wonder if he'd look like that with my dick in his mouth. If he'd swallow around the head, and let me rest my fingers on his throat just to feel that little piece of cartilege move beneath them.

"Come on, let's go," he says, slamming the bottle back on the table. I'm not finished with my beer yet, but Edward is grabbing my hand, yanking me up, pulling me behind him. I'm grateful that it's so dark in here, that he can't see my erection tenting my pants.

He shoves the door to the dance club open and pulls me through, tugs my arm forward to wrap around his waist, and forces me to walk closely behind him. The music is still pounding, a different techno beat but still the same thump, thump, thump that I'm used to.

We weave through the crowd, looking for a place to dance. Edward finds one, close to where Paul is grinding on some twink, and he spins me around so I'm in front of him. I'm a little bit taller than Edward, just an inch or two, and I probably have thirty pounds on him... but he's so clearly in charge here. He positions me just how he wants me, with his arm wrapped around my waist, and starts moving with me to the beat.

I keep one eye on Paul, and I know he's still watching us. He's getting aggressive with the twink, pushing him forward and grinding into his ass with more force. The kid seems to be eating it up, but I have the urge to tell him to stay away from Paul. To save him from the drama that I went through.

Edward notices Paul stepping up his game, and he spins me around to face him. He starts to pull me close again, but I take a small step back. I'm trying to keep his hips from grinding into mine, because I know he's going to feel my hard-on. I don't want to freak him out, and I sure as hell don't want him to stop dancing with me.

He's saying something, his lips are moving, but I can't make out the words. I watch the multicolored lights from the ceiling flicker over his face, turning his pale skin blue, purple, red. He's still talking, trying to tell me something, but it's impossible to hear.

Finally he gives up, reaches down to my waist, and pulls me tightly against him. I gasp when my dick comes into contact his his body, straining to get to him through the layers of cloth between us. Edward looks into my eyes and tilts his head softly. This time, when he speaks, I know exactly what he's saying: "It's okay."

The acceptance, the affection in his eyes makes me tear up. I drop my head to his shoulder, hoping he didn't see, and try to get a grip. He doesn't love you, Jacob. Not like that.

Edward's just being a friend, helping me out. Helping me stick it to the ex that never deserved me in the first place. I wrap my arms around Edward, feel him slip his thigh between my legs, and start moving against him. He feels so fucking good against my dick that I have to think about girls to keep me from getting too excited.

I lift my head a little, just enough so that I can see Paul. He's kissing on that twink now, but the kid seems bored and not at all into it. He shrugs Paul off, twists away from him, and moves to dance with someone else. Paul tries to follow, but quickly gets the hint that he's not wanted any longer. He stands there alone for just a minute, not dancing, just watching me with Edward as the crowd moves around him.

I feel Edward's hand trail down to my ass, feel him squeeze the flesh there, and thankfully the music masks my loud moan. I'm sure Paul can see how Edward is touching me. I hope he can see my face, too, twisted in pleasure as Edward grinds against me.

Paul storms out, heading back to the bar area, and I don't care if he's leaving the club or just leaving the room. I feel lighter now, knowing that I have more power over him than he has over me.

I should probably pull away, let Edward know Paul is gone. I can't do it, though, can't peel my body away from his. I feel his lips brush against my neck and every part of me shudders with want.

Edward must've felt it, because he pulls back and spins me around. He wraps his arm around my waist again and crushes me against him without losing the rhythm. I feel his cheek against my shoulder, his fingers digging into my hip, and something... something pressing against my ass. Maybe it's just the seam of his jeans, the line of his fly pressing up against the roundness of my ass cheek.

Except it wasn't there before. It's harder, thicker, too insistent to be just his fly.

My brain is still scrambling to explain it away-maybe it's just wishful thinking on my part. Maybe I'm missing something.

And then he thrusts his hips against me, pulls me tight against his chest, and I stop trying to explain it away. I close my eyes and give into the feeling. I let myself think about what could happen if we keep dancing like this all night. If we keep drinking, and dancing, and grinding against each other. If we stumble home like this, sloppy drunk and horny and hard. If he lets me pull him into my bedroom.

Then the song changes. It's more of the same techno crap, but it's a slower, thudding beat. It's enough of a change to jolt Edward out of the rhythm we've been in. He pulls away, leaves some distance between us, and I wince at the loss of his warmth. I turn around slowly, almost afraid to face him. He doesn't look angry or freaked out though, he's just looking around the dance floor. He raises an eyebrow in question, silently asking me about Paul.

I jerk my head towards the door, indicating that he left. Edward holds his thumb up and then turns it down, alternating between the two, and I understand that he's asking if our little show was successful. I give him a thumbs up in return, and he grins. He offers up his fist for me to bump, and I do my best to return his enthusiasm.

We only stay for another half an hour or so, dancing with a lot more space between us, before we're both sick of the crowds, the long line for drinks, the punishing beat of the music. By the time I'm driving us home, my erection has mostly gone down. It feels just like a normal night, but I still have a tiny sliver of hope that maybe something more will happen when we get back to the apartment. Edward fiddles with his phone during the fifteen minute ride home, and hops out of my car as soon as I pull it into my parking space.

"I'm uh, gonna take off," he says, gesturing toward his Volvo.

"Oh?" I ask, confused. It's almost one, and I didn't think he wanted to go to another bar.

"Yeah," he says, winking and holding up his cell phone. "Gonna stop by Kate's. She's always up for a booty call, you know what I mean?" There's a sharp pain in my chest, knowing that he's going to be working off all of the night's sexual tension with some skanky girl instead of me. I pull myself together pretty quickly though, and give him a fake smile.

"Have fun," I tell him, turning to walk into the building. "Don't do anything that I wouldn't do," I call out over my shoulder, registering his quiet chuckle as he unlocks the Volvo. I keep my head high, my shoulders squared, until I'm safely in the apartment. Until I can let myself fall apart a little, let myself mourn for the pieces of Edward that will never be mine.


	3. Watching

It's pretty depressing ordering Chinese takeout for one.

Edward and I always get Chinese on Thursday nights, and we sit around and watch sitcoms, drink, and make plans for the weekend. He likes the bitchy little brunette on Community, and I have a hard-on for Joel McHale, so it works out well for both of us.

Tonight, though, he's not around. I haven't seen him since last night. He did send me a text around five this afternoon, letting me know he was going to a happy hour with some people from his office. He used to invite me along to shit like that. Not that I would've driven across town to have some expensive martinis with the yuppie assholes he works with, but it would've been nice if he'd asked.

I figured he'd be home by eight, so I've held off on ordering the food. When he doesn't show, I pick up the phone to call the Golden Buddha and order food for myself. At the last minute, I add an order for Edward's usual, too. He can eat it when he comes home.

 

An hour later, my belly full of lo-mein and cheap beer, I'm considering the psychology of Jim and Pam's marriage and wondering how often they have sex. I hear Edward's key turn in the lock and my lips curl up into a smile.

"Hey, fucker," I call, once I hear the door open. "Your kung pao chicken is in the fridge."

"Hey, Jake," he calls, and I hear the door close behind him. Edward sounds a little sloppy, and I hear him banging against the wall as he takes off his shoes.

And then I hear a giggle.

He walks around the corner, his arm wrapped around some stick-thin girl with shiny fucking hair. She looks like the goddamn girl on Community.

She's pretty. Edward's girls are always pretty.

"Jakey, my man, my BFF," he says, slurring just a little. "This right here is Angela." He sings a little "Angie," doing his best Mick Jagger impression.

"Hey," I greet her, raising my beer bottle. She giggles again and waves nervously, and I wonder if she can even fucking talk.

"Ang here brought me home, I had a couple maybe too many drinks," Edward explains. I can fucking see his hand squeezing her side, sliding up and down to tickle her ribs.

"You could've called me, man," I remind him. I would've bitched about it, but I would've driven across town to pick him up.

"I didn't mind," Angela says, finally finding her fucking voice. I have the urge to mock her high-pitched little squeak, but I bite back my bitter reaction.

"You want a drink, babe?" Edward asks her, turning his head so his lips are right next to her fucking ear. I can see her shudder, and I can't blame her. Those lips have been that close to my ear, and it feels amazing.

"Maybe just a water," she says, reaching over to tug on the lapel of his jacket. Watching them flirt is like having a knife stuck in my stomach and then twisted, tapped, jiggled around. It's one sharp pain compounded by every look, every touch, every unspoken word.

"Have a seat," he says, gesturing to the couch where I'm sitting. I slide my feet to the floor so she has room to sit, and Edward disappears into the kitchen.

"So what are you watching?" she asks, her hands folded in her lap. I look her up and down, trying to hate her, but she seems like a nice girl. Edward's girls are always fucking nice.

"The Office," I answer simply. She just nods. I want to get her the fuck out of here so Edward can eat his kung pao chicken and hang out with me. "You know, he's fine now that he's home. If you wanna go, I'm sure he won't mind," I suggest, trying to make it sound like we were on the same team. The Taking Care of Edward Team.

"Ummm..." she says, twisting her hands, looking back towards the kitchen. "Well, I-"

"One water, for the lady," Edward says, strolling in with a bottle of water in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other. She thanks him, accepts the bottle of water and opens it to take a sip. Edward doesn't sit with us, he just sits on the arm of the couch, right next to Angela. We all watch the TV in silence for a few minutes, but I can see the communication between the two of them.

Edward has a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. He slides it under her stupid shiny hair to tickle the back of her neck, and he's already got her squirming. He could probably pull his dick out right now and she'd suck it for him.

When the show goes to commercial, he stands up. "You want the tour, Ang?" he asks her, and I notice that he suddenly seems a lot more sober than he did a few minutes ago.

"Sure," she says, jumping to her feet. I know what "the tour" is. I've seen Edward give "the tour" many fucking times. I know that it starts in the kitchen and ends in his bedroom, with the tourist naked in his fucking bed.

I cringe as he takes her hand to lead her around. I want nothing more than to figure out a way to stop them. Maybe I could go out in the hall and pull the fire alarm... or maybe I could actually set something on fire...

It never used to bother me, seeing Edward bring home girls. I was always a little jealous, but it wasn't this seething, writhing, fiery kind of jealousy that I feel now. Now that I know what it's like to see Edward cum. Now that I know what he feels like pressed up against me, grinding his hard-on into me.

We haven't talked about that shit, because what is there to say? Edward's not gay, he's not bi, he's never been with a dude. He never looks at me like he wants me, never makes a move. I think the time I saw him masturbating he was just putting on a show; he's always been into doing shit in public, so it was probably just the thrill of showing off. And the fact that he got a boner while we were dancing? I blame that on friction.

I'm sure he hasn't given a second thought to either one of those instances, but I think about them both every fucking day. I remember every detail about his cock, his cum face, the way he touched me when he was "pretending" to flirt.

I didn't hear Edward's door close, so I figure they're still talking or whatever. I wait for a little while, watch the rest of The Office, and clean up the mess from the Chinese food. It's still early, but I figure I'll get to bed before the porno screaming starts. If I put on my headphones and turn up the music as loud as it goes, I won't have to listen to Edward's headboard banging against our shared bedroom wall.

Maybe I'm wrong... maybe he's not fucking her. I'm walking down the hall, and his bedroom door is still cracked open a few inches. I can't hear them talking, so I step closer and peek inside.

Holy shit. Why the fuck didn't Edward close the door?

I should close it. I should walk away. This isn't just spying on Edward, this is another person's privacy, too.

But Edward's practically fucking naked, and he's fucking this girl's mouth. I can't look away.

Angela is kneeling on the goddamn floor, just wearing her stupid black skirt, and Edward's tie-the red one that his dad sent him for his birthday-is wrapped around her head, covering her eyes like a blindfold. Both of her hands are clasped behind her back and she's got her mouth wide open, taking Edward's thick cock like a champion. He's lost his pants and his underwear, and but his shirt is still hanging, unbuttoned, from his shoulders.

As much as straight sex turns me off... well, everything about Edward turns me on, and my dick is rock solid in seconds. I need to walk away though, before he sees me. This would be... surely this would be crossing a line. He doesn't want me to watch them.

Except... why did he leave the door open, then?

I push away from the door, resolving to take care of my erection in my own bedroom. Preferably to the image of a guy sucking off another guy, to erase the mental image of Angela's tits.

"You like this, don't you?" Edward says, stopping me in my tracks. I turn my head, just enough to see him, and he's fucking looking at me. Staring right into my eyes. "You like sucking my cock?" he asks, and the girl moans around it enthusiastically. My breathing accelerates, and I find that my feet are planted to the floor. I can't move.

"I knew you were a kinky girl," he says, returning his attention to her. He cards his fingers through her long hair, and I wonder what that would feel like. His big, warm hand tugging at my hair while I sucked him off.

He wraps his fist around the base of his cock and pulls back from her mouth. She really does fucking love it; she whimpers and leans forward, trying to find his cock again.

"Not so fast, baby," Edward says, steadying her with a hand on her cheek. "You want me to cum like this? Or do you want me to fuck you?" She moans and shifts on her knees, obviously turned on by his dirty talk. Why wouldn't she be? Everything about him is fucking sexy.

Edward crouches down, kisses her on the lips, and asks her again. "I'll get you off either way, but you have to decide what you want. Do you wanna fuck me, baby? Or just oral tonight? What do you wanna do?" he asks her, dropping kisses down her neck and shoulder. I think he's playing with her tits, too, but I can't really see from this angle.

"Fuck, Edward," she moans. "I want you to fuck me. Do you have... do you have condoms?" she asks, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. As if Edward fucking Cullen would ever be caught without a condom.

"Yeah, baby girl, of course I do," he says, standing up again. He strokes his cock twice, just inches from her face, before he pulls her up to her feet. He leads her forward, lays a palm flat between her shoulder blades and pushes her until she bends over. She rests her elbows on the bed and Edward moves to his bedside table, reaching into the drawer for a condom. He rips it open and slides it down his shaft expertly.

When he pumps his dick a few times, my fingers twitch. I want to be the one doing that. My cock is fucking painfully hard, and I press my palm against the front of my pajama pants to adjust it. Edward's fucking looking at me again, his cock in his fucking hand, and he sees what I'm doing. He doesn't stop. I don't stop.

After a few seconds, though, the girl whines and Edward turns back to her. He starts to pull her hips up, position her, and then he changes his mind.

"Come on, up on the bed," he says gently, propelling her forward. She crawls up on her hands and knees and he guides her forward, until she's closer to the headboard. It takes me a second to realize that he's moving her so I can watch. So that he can watch me. He doesn't want his back to me when he-

"Oh fuck!" she shouts, as Edward slides into her without another word. He didn't even fucking finger her or anything, but maybe girls don't need that shit first. I don't know anything about pussy.

She's moaning and talking, babbling really, but I'm not paying attention to her. Instead I'm focused on Edward, the muscles of his ass clenching as he thrusts into her. He stops thrusting and just rests a hand on her back, making her wait. He's still wearing a fucking shirt, but he pulls it off hastily and tosses it over the side of his bed.

Then he starts fucking her in earnest. I tune her out and listen only for Edward's grunts, his moans, the murmured words that get me all worked up. I slide my hand down inside my pants and give in to the urge to jerk off, setting my rhythm to match Edward's. He's a good lover, that much I can tell; he's so in tune with her, giving her everything she wants. I think she cums once, pretty quickly, because he slows down and strokes her back after one particularly loud screaming fit.

When his speed picks up again, so does mine, and I imagine myself on Edward's bed, on my hands and knees, filled with his cock. He could be rougher with me. He could push and spank and pull my hair, and I would love every fucking second of it. He could pump his hips into me so fucking fast, and I would take everything he had to give. I would be so fucking good for him.

"You like getting fucked?" he asks her, ramping up the dirty talk. Except when I let my eyes drift up his body, glistening with sweat, to see his face... he's looking at me. I don't hear the girl answer, but I mouth the word "yes."

"You like getting fucked hard, don't you?" he says. Still looking at me. He's watching my hand moving desperately beneath the thin flannel pants I'm wearing. I suddenly want him to see, to know what he does to me. I don't give a fuck about lines anymore, or what's too gay for him, because if Edward didn't want this he wouldn't be talking to me right now. I push my pants down off my hips, pull my erection out of the elastic waistband, and let him see how fucking hard I am for him.

"God, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Edward shouts, pounding into the girl, still looking at me. "Cum with me!" he begs.

This is so fucked up, because I don't even know who he's talking to. But my body doesn't care that it's fucked up; it responds to Edward's command. The intensity of my orgasm rocks me, and I can barely hold myself up as I pump into my own hand, trying to catch all the cum so I don't make a mess on Edward's floor.

When I come to my senses, I look back at them. The girl was screaming too, I think, and she's collapsed on the bed. Edward is on top of her, holding his weight up on his elbows. He's kissing her softly, all over her shoulders and the back of her neck. Whispering to her now, softer words that I can't hear.

It's all for her. Even if he wanted me to watch, wanted me to cum, that's all I get. She gets all of it, everything, and I just get that little piece he's willing to share.

I pull my pants up and stumble into the bathroom, washing the cum off my hands. All I can think about are those soft little kisses, his sweet words, his warm body covering her. My hands are shaking as I dry them, and I can feel the tears pooling in my eyes. I want him wrapped around me, I want him to come down with me, take care of me.

I'm hoping I can make it back to my bedroom before I lose my shit completely and start crying. I open the bathroom door wide and come face to face with Edward.

He looks sleepy and satisfied, sexy and sated. I duck my head and turn sideways so he can pass me, and he slips into the bathroom. He pauses in the doorway, reaches out for me, and lays a warm hand on my shoulder.

"Jake..." he says, his voice soft and tentative, but I can't let him see. The tears are starting to fall down my cheeks now and I can't let him fucking see. I twist out of his grasp and bolt down the hallway, just barely making it to the safety of my own bedroom before I can't hold it in anymore. I sob because I'm hurt, and ashamed, and jealous... but mostly because I can't deny it now. I love him, I'm fucking in love with him, and it's going to ruin everything.


	4. Not Sleeping

We're at the grocery store on Saturday, picking out fresh fucking herbs for the lasagna Edward promised to make this week, when I start to get fed up.

Neither of us has said a word about the last "incident," the one that happened over two weeks ago. It hasn't been weird between us, exactly, but I sort of expected that we'd talk about it. Edward tried to say something in the bathroom that night, before I ran away, and I guess I thought he'd come after me. Or bring it up the next day. But he didn't, he was just his normal, sunny, Edwardy self.

I wasn't about to bring it up. I had a feeling that conversation was going to end in all kinds of awkwardness, so I just avoided it altogether.

Today, though, while he's picking out herbs, Edward nudges me with his elbow.

"Four o'clock," he says, nodding subtly toward the root vegetables. I scratch my neck casually as I turn to see what he's pointing out.

It's a guy. A hot guy. A guy that's exactly my fucking type. For a second I wonder if Edward is telling me he finds this guy attractive, too...

"Want me to make it happen?" Edward asks, grinning as he nudges me again. "I can go be a sleazeball and you can swoop in and be the hero." Oh. Now I get it-he's trying to hook me up with this hot stranger.

I'm all twisted up, wrecked, all fucking conflicted about my feelings for my best friend-the man who, two weeks ago, got weak in the knees from seeing my dick and fucking begged me to cum with him. I'm all conflicted, and Edward is business as usual. He has no idea that I want him. No idea what effect he has on me.

And it fucking pisses me off.

"Fuck you," I tell him, tossing the goddamn basil into the cart. Edward looks shocked.

"What the fuck man?" he asks, his eyes wide and hurt. I want to go off on him, tell him that I don't need him to hook me up. That I don't want him to. That the only man I need is right here holding a plastic container of organic oregano.

I chicken out; I can't say shit. I can't watch his gorgeous face twist in disgust, or hear him explain, in his quiet, patient fucking way, that he doesn't want me.

"Sorry. Shit." I tug at the collar of my t-shirt-suddenly it feels like it's choking me. "I'm just... in a pissy mood." Edward still looks worried.

"Yeah, apparently," he says. "Maybe you just need to get laid," he suggests, winking at me as he drops his last selection into the cart. He pushes it forward, leaving me alone, annoyed, and fucking confused.

It's not the sound of Edward coming in the front door later that night-much later-that wakes me up. It's not even the sound of him stumbling down the hall, or crawling into my bed. It's the crash of the alarm clock he knocks off my nightstand.

"What the fuck?" I ask, groaning as I'm pulled out of a deep sleep and an awesome sex dream.

"Shhhhh, man, go back to sleep," Edward says, patting my head roughly. He's fucking drunk again; this is the third night this week that he's come home wasted. Don't get me wrong, I drink a lot too, but I don't get shitfaced all the time for no good reason.

"Edward, why the fuck are you in my bed?" I ask, rolling over onto my stomach so he doesn't see how fucking hard I am from that dream. A dream that he was starring in.

"Jakey, shhh, sleep time," he says, kicking off his shoes. He's already stripped off whatever clothes he was wearing, and he's just in his boxers and a white t-shirt now.

"Dude!" I complain.

"My bed's all cold," he whines.

"Did you leave your fucking window open again?" I ask, turning my head to look at him. He has a bad habit of opening the window to let in some fresh air, and then leaving it open for hours when he goes out. Not such a big deal in the summer, but it fucking sucks in February.

"Yeah," he says, giggling. He is fucking drunk and sloppy and... gorgeous and so, so, so sexy. And now he's in my bed, asking to sleep here with me and my giant hard-on. "Come on, please?" he begs, sticking out his bottom lip.

"Fine." I give in. I turn away from him, so I'm facing the window, and try to block out the sounds of Edward settling in. He pulls the blanket up over his chest, and I feel it tug against mine. I've thought about sharing my bed with him so many times, but I didn't think it would be like this. Not after he stumbles home drunk from some godawful bar, probably having fucked some godawful woman. The thought of him fucking someone before he came home makes me angry.

"Couldn't find a skank to take you home tonight?" I sneer, punching my pillow to fluff it up under my head. If Edward registers the anger in my voice, he doesn't say anything about it.

"Didn't want a skank," he slurs. "Just wanted my Jacob." My chest tightens in pain as my heart processes his words. He doesn't mean it... he can't mean it. He's drunk.

This mattress is old, and the bedsprings squeak when he moves closer.

Squeak.

Squeak.

I can feel him now. We're not touching, he's inches away, but I can feel his heat. Every fucking muscle in my body is tensed, waiting for him to say something. Do something. Waiting for him to touch me like I fucking need him to touch me.

His breathing slows and I don't hear any more movement. I'm tempted to turn over, check to see if he's asleep, but what if he's not and I scare him off? I hold myself still, so fucking still, and wait for him to pass out. I don't relax until I hear his soft snores, and I know for sure he's asleep behind me. I bury my face in the pillow and match my breaths to his until I fall asleep, too.

When I wake up again it's still dark outside-and Edward's pressed up against me. One heavy arm is draped over my waist, his fingers brushing the sheet below us. Every part of his body is touching part of mine-I can feel his knees pressing into the back of my legs, his chest connecting with my back, his face nuzzled into my neck.

I can feel his cock, rock hard and nestled between the cheeks of my ass.

I moan at the realization that this is Edward-my Edward-as close to me as he's ever been. It strikes me that the only way he could be closer is if he were inside me... and then I'm hard again, instantly.

I have no idea what to do. I could roll backwards, try to get him to lie on his back and let go of me. That option is probably the sanest, but it's not very appealing.

I could wake him up, send him back to his own bed... also, not very appealing. When will I ever get another chance like this?

Or I could just go with it. Snuggle closer to him and close my eyes and pretend that he's not drunk, half asleep, confused. Yeah, I'm just gonna go with it.

I push back against him, just a little, just to get some friction, and I hear a low, incredibly sexy groan come from his mouth.

My breath stops, trapped in my chest, and I freeze. I'm afraid he's going to wake up now and freak out when he finds us in this position.

I'm expecting to hear "What the fuck?" or "Where am I?" or "Oh shit!" I'm not prepared for the one word he does mumble.

"Jake..."

He practically moans my name, and there's no fucking way he's not dreaming about me. His arm tightens around my waist, and he pulls me closer. I think he's just snuggling, just settling in his sleep, but then I feel his hips pull away.

When he pushes them back into me, it doesn't feel like he's snuggling. It feels like he's... like he's fucking grinding against me. And then when he does it again, I let out the breath I've been holding along with a moan.

He's moving against me, holding me tight, humping me. It's a dream come true, except for the fact that he's fucking asleep. I start to feel guilty. I shouldn't let him do this-he wouldn't want this if he was awake, if he knew he was in bed with me for real. I'm torn, because I love the way he's holding me, touching me, but I know-in my stupid fucking heart-that it's not real.

"Edward," I say, my voice faltering just a little. "Edward, man, wake up." I hold absolutely still, waiting for the jolt as he pulls away.

He stops moving, turns his head a little so I can feel his breath hot against my ear.

"I'm not sleeping," he whispers, thrusting against me again.

Oh fuck. This is really fucking happening. He's awake, he's holding me, grinding against me, and he knows it. Holy shit.

"Jake," he moans, squeezing me tighter. "Jake, do you want me to stop?" he asks, his lips grazing my ear.

"No," I beg, "don't stop, please." I want to touch him, but I don't know what to do-what he would be comfortable with. I settle with matching his rhythm, pushing back against him, making sure he can feel that I want him, too.

He's making me so hard, and I'm dying to touch my dick, but I'm afraid of making a wrong move. I try to hold still, so still, and just rock with him, but my hand has a mind of its own. It moves slowly, trying to avoid touching Edward's arm where it's resting against my stomach.

It takes forever for me to reach the waistband of my pants, but I find it, and I slip my hand inside. When I reach my cock, just as I finally feel the relief of my fingers wrapping around it, Edward lets go of my waist and wraps his fingers around my wrist, stopping me from moving.

"Can... can I?" he asks, swallowing audibly.

"God, yes," I answer. I've never wanted anything more in my entire life. I pull my hand back, sliding it up and out of my pajama pants. My fingers graze Edward's as his hand takes the place of mine. He toys with the waistband and takes a deep breath, as if he's gathering his courage.

"Oh shit, Jake," he says, as his hand travels lower and encounters my hard-on. "Christ." He wraps his fingers around me and squeezes hard. He doesn't start stroking, he just holds me in his hand and squeezes. His little finger slides up and down, caressing one tiny spot on the base of my cock. That little finger... fuck. That little finger is killing me.

He's still thrusting, grinding his own erection against me. When he starts stroking my cock, it's a little stunted, a little awkward. He gets the rhythm a little bit backward at first, but he figures it out quickly-uses the force of his thrusts to push me into his hand, squeezes the tip of my cock as he pulls away.

"Oh my God, oh my God, Edward," I pant, giving over to his ministrations. One of my hands is clutching the sheet beneath me, twisting it, and the other one is gripping Edward's forearm. I can feel his muscles, feel them moving and flexing as he strokes me, and it's so fucking amazing.

He's grunting and panting against me, and I can feel his face buried in my shoulder. I want to kiss him so fucking bad... I know that if he kisses me, I'll lose it. I'll cum. All I can think about are his lips, soft and pink, and how close they are to mine. Just a few inches, just a little twist of my neck and we'd be face to face.

"Jake, fuck, I think I'm gonna... God, I think I'm gonna..." he says, losing control as he ruts against me faster and harder.

"Cum, Edward," I beg him. "I want you to cum." He's cumming with me, I think. Because of me.

"God, fuck," he groans, bucking into me with sharp thrusts, and his teeth sink into my shoulder. It's the bite that does it, that pushes me over the fucking edge, and my cock explodes in his hand. I know I'm cumming so hard because it's Edward making me cum. Edward's hand on my cock. Edward's dick rubbing against me. Edward's warm, lean body wrapped around mine.

He's cumming too, I can tell by the way his body is jerking. The noises he's making are primal and growly and sexy as hell.

I finish before he does, and my powerful orgasm leaves me gasping and shaking. Edward's thrusts slow to a stop, and I can feel the wetness of his jizz through the layers of fabric between us.

He pulls his hand from my pants slowly, and holds it out in front of us. It's glistening with my cum, and I think it looks like the sexiest hand I've ever seen. I'm still holding his forearm, and I guide his hand down slowly to my thigh so he can wipe it clean-since I'm going to have to change anyway.

When he's wiped it all off, and his hand moves back towards my waist, I push myself back against him. I want his arm around me again, I want him holding me close. I want some soft kisses on my neck and reassurances that this was okay, that he wants me, that it's not just a drunken-middle-of-the-night thing.

His hand lingers, giving me hope, but then he pulls it away from me. He pulls his whole body away from me, rolling onto his back, and lets out a long, shaky breath.

I roll over, wanting to see him now-I need to see him. His arm is thrown across his face, covering his eyes, and he's taking deep, slow breaths.

"Edward?" I whisper, curling up on my side. My pants are wet and uncomfortable, but I don't want to move away from him yet. He doesn't answer, doesn't move. I'm still shaking, rocked to my fucking core by the intensity of his touch, but he's completely still.

I want to sneak closer, rest my head on his shoulder, wrap my arm around him. But he's just... he's just quiet. And I figure maybe he needs a minute to process what we did, so I wait.

The longer I wait, the more my fingers itch to touch him.

When I finally give in, I let my fingertips just barely touch his shoulder. He jerks a little, drops the arm covering his eyes, and I can see that they're closed. That he's asleep.

Questions race through my mind-am I fucking dreaming? Was he dreaming? Was he still so drunk that he didn't know what he was doing? I lie on my side, curled up next to him, and analyze the possibilities. I lie there for so long that I forget to change my pants, and the sticky mess dries against my skin. I lie there watching Edward sleep, wishing I could know what he was thinking.

His hand is lying next to his head, on top of the pillow. I need to touch him, I need some kind of connection with him, so I move my hand closer to his. I let my fingers rest on his palm, allowing myself just that one small touch as I drift off to sleep again.


	5. Speaking Up

When I wake up, I'm alone. I'm still curled up on my side, in the middle of the bed, but Edward is gone. I roll over and stretch, my muscles protesting the cramped position I spent most of the night in. The movement makes me aware of the stiff fabric of my pajama pants; I can feel the dried cum on my skin, and it's an uncomfortable reminder that I didn't actually dream my encounter with Edward last night.

It feels like a fucking dream-maybe it was, for Edward. He passed out so quickly afterwards that I question whether he was really aware of what we did.

With a groan, I stand up and stretch out my muscles some more. Usually on the weekends I go for a long run in the morning, but I'm giving myself a pass today. I need a fucking shower and some coffee.

I don't see Edward when I venture outside of my bedroom, but I know he's awake. The ceramic tiles lining the shower are still wet, so he probably woke up just before me... he jizzed in his boxers last night too, so I'm sure he had a similar mess to deal with.

As I peel off my clothes, I have to try to think of something else-something other than Edward cumming, Edward getting naked, Edward showering. My cock has other ideas, though, and he's a persistent fucker. It doesn't help that I have to soap up that general area pretty thoroughly, to wash away the traces of dried cum.

Before long, against my better judgment, I'm stroking my cock roughly. I try to imitate the way Edward gripped me last night, but it's not the same. He was... he was fucking magical. I close my eyes and lean against the cool ceramic tiles, thinking of the way his body felt against mine, of the stubble on his jaw scratching my shoulder as he nuzzled me there.

I picture what we looked like: Edward wrapped around my body, his fingers wrapped around my dick. In my mind, though, I take away the clothes that had separated us, and I can see what we would look like naked and grinding together. What it would feel like if Edward lifted my leg over his and settled between my cheeks. What if would feel like if he grabbed hold of his own dick and circled it against my hole before slowly pushing it inside-

"Yes!" I cry, my back arching as I let go. I watch the streams of cum fall to the bottom of the shower and swirl down the drain. The power that Edward has over me-even fantasy Edward-is fucking intense.

I rest my head on my forearm as I recover, turning my back to the shower spray so it pounds down on my shoulders as I relax.

When I get out of the shower, I spend a long time drying myself thoroughly and thinking about what to say to Edward. I don't know if he's gay, or bi, or straight and just fucking experimenting, but I need to find out.

A year ago-before the whole mess with Paul-I probably wouldn't have questioned Edward's motives. I would have assumed that I'm lucky to get whatever he's willing to give, and kept my mouth shut. I would have let him take the lead, no matter how much his choices made me hurt, and I never would have stood up for what I wanted.

Ironically, Edward was the one who made me see that I can't live my life like that. That I have to ask for what I want and demand to be treated well in a relationship. That I shouldn't put up with anything other than what I deserve. "Bottom line, Jake," he'd said, "you deserve to be treated with respect, man."

I wrap my towel around my hips, pick up my discarded pajama pants, and step out into the hallway... just as Edward is walking out of his bedroom.

"Hey," he says, his cheeks filling with color. He meets my eyes for only a second before they drop down to the floor.

"Hey," I answer, softly, flattening myself against the wall so he can get by. He's fully dressed, wearing some dark-washed jeans and the soft green sweater he got at the Gap last month. "Are you, uh, going out?" I ask, hoping he's not going to run before I get up the courage to talk to him.

"Nah, just gonna make some coffee," he answers. "You want?"

"Yeah, thanks," I tell him, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him as he walks past. After he disappears into the kitchen, I hurry into my room and look for something to wear. Normally on a Sunday morning we would both just lounge around in basketball shorts and a t-shirt, but for some reason I feel like I need to get fully dressed, like Edward.

I pull on my favorite button-fly jeans, the ones that are just a little too snug, and I pull on a t-shirt and an old Seahawks hoodie. Somehow, wrapped up in familiar things, I feel a little bit stronger.

When I make my way out to the kitchen, I find Edward sitting at the table holding a steaming mug of coffee. The sports page is open, spread out in front of him, but he doesn't seem to be reading it.

I walk past him to pour myself a mug, and sit down at the chair next to him. He doesn't look up from the newspaper, and we sit in silence for a few minutes, just slurping our Organic Shade Grown Mexican coffee. Edward is a stickler for that organic, environmental crap.

When he clears his throat and looks up at me, my heart starts pounding in anticipation of what he could have to say.

"So, you're off work tomorrow, right?" he asks, taking another sip from his Accountants Do It With Double Entries mug.

I blink, confused by his question. "Huh?"

"President's Day," he clarifies. "You don't have to work tomorrow?"

"Uh, yeah," I answer, my mind catching up to the conversation. "I mean, yeah, I'm off. I'm not working."

"Cool," he says, folding the sports section back up. "Do you still wanna go to Bella's with me tonight? She's having a party."

"Do you really wanna talk about Bella's party?" I ask him, raising an eyebrow in question. He blushes again, the red coloring his cheeks and his ears, and sets his mug down on the table. His hands are wrapped around it, holding it tightly, as though it's the only thing that can save him.

"I guess not," he says, quietly. He stares at me with wide eyes, waiting for me to take the first step.

"Do you even remember what happened last night?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. Edward shakes his head slowly, and his denial feels like a punch to my chest-I can feel my shoulders hunching over, my arms tightening over my chest. I look down at my coffee, ashamed and humiliated.

But then he says my name. "Jake... how could I forget?" I look back up at him, and find that his expression is open, accepting. "I mean, Jesus..." he trails off, biting his lip as he looks for the right words.

"You were so drunk," I remind him. "I thought maybe... maybe you weren't like, fully aware of what you were doing."

He chuckles and shakes his head again, bringing his coffee mug up to his lips for another sip. I try not to stare, not to watch the muscles in his throat move as he swallows.

"I was aware, man. I remember everything," he says, and a small, sexy little smile appears on his face. That smile, small as it is, gives me the confidence that I'm doing the right thing. That on some level, he wants me-or wanted me last night, at least-and isn't totally freaked out by this.

"It was fun," I tell him, even though that's the understatement of the fucking century. It was everything.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep," he offers, and I shrug my shoulders in acceptance. "I mean, I heard you say my name. After. I just... I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything, and then I fell asleep."

That hurts. Remembering how shaky I was, how fucking needy I was feeling, and knowing that he ignored me... it fucking hurts. But in a way I can understand his feelings-hell, I didn't know what to say, either.

"It's okay," I tell him. I sip some more coffee and wait-for him to tell me what he wants, why he came to my bed, what the deal is between us. Edward's waiting too, though, his eyes trained on that stupid coffee cup. I think he needs some prompting if we're gonna have this conversation.

"So is it... God, Edward, I have so many questions. Do you think that... maybe you're bi?" I ask him, knowing that it's less scary than asking him outright if he's gay.

"I don't think so," he says, shaking his head again. "I mean, I don't feel like I'm bi. I'm not attracted to men, Jake. Just... you."

"Just me?" I ask, my voice squeaking a little in surprise.

"Yeah," he says. "I haven't always felt this way, it's just that lately... I don't know. Lately, I've been looking at you differently, noticing things. The way you look, your smile, you know? And your body..."

It's my turn to blush.

"The, uh, the day that you saw me... uhm, masturbating... I didn't like, intend for that to happen. I didn't think you'd be home, honestly. I was thinking about girls... or trying to... and your face just kept popping into my head, you know?"

I want to interrupt and tell him that I do know what it's like-trying to jerk off to porn or my trusty old fantasies and having my roommate's face pop up unexpectedly. I don't want him to stop talking, though, so I keep my mouth shut and just nod.

"So when I saw you standing at the door, saw you watching, I told myself I'd give you a little show. I told myself I was doing it for you, not for me. But I'd never come that hard before, not by myself. After that... I just couldn't stop thinking about you that way," he confesses.

"Last night-did you come to my bed because you wanted to fool around?" I ask him, desperate to know if he had planned any part of what we did.

"Uh, I really did leave my window open, and my room really was fucking freezing," he says, smiling as he takes another sip of coffee. "But I don't know. Maybe subconsciously I left the window open so I'd have an excuse to come and sleep with you? I wasn't planning for anything like that to happen, though."

"How did you... um..." I fumble, trying to think of how to ask him what I want to ask him. "What did you think of... Well, what I mean is, did you like it? What we did?" I ask, whispering the last few words, still trying not to spook him.

"Yeah," he says, smiling his real, wide, Edward smile. "Yeah, I liked it. A lot."

"Me too," I admit, looking away from his intense stare, his beautiful smile.

"I'm not gay," he says, his hand creeping across the surface of the table, toward mine. "But I guess I'm not one hundred percent straight, either. Maybe I'm... maybe I'm Jakeosexual." I snort with laughter, just as his hand covers mine.

I flip my palm over and grab his hand, squeezing his fingers with mine. He pulls away after a minute, more quickly than I'd like, but I appreciate the gesture.

Edward gets up to grab the coffee pot, and tops off both of our cups. It's quiet again, and I think maybe Edward's done talking-but I'm not.

"Is it something... is that something you'd wanna do again?" I ask, tentatively. "When you're, uh, sober?" I add.

Edward nods, and his cheeks and his ears get even more red.

"What about, like, other stuff?" I ask, trying to keep my voice from sounding too hopeful.

"Yeah," he whispers. "I want... I want to try everything with you."

As much as his words turn me on, that "try" gives me pause. "Try" implies "once," an experiment, a test. I mull over what I want to say, drinking my coffee slowly and listening to Edward drum his fingers on the tabletop. It takes me a long time to gather the courage to say what I need to say, and I can't do it until Edward breaks the silence.

"Do you want some eggs? I was gonna make-"

"Edward," I interrupt him. "I need to know... I mean, I can't do this if..." Fuck. Fuck. I can't do it. I'm so fucking terrified that if I tell him what I need, he'll pull away from me and I'll get nothing. But I know that I don't want pieces. I want all of him.

"I need to know if this is just an experiment for you, or if you care about me. I have, um, feelings for you, and I don't want to just fool around. I want more," I admit, squeezing my eyes closed in fear. I don't want to push him away now, but it will hurt so much more if we have this conversation after days, weeks, months of being intimate.

"Of course I care about you," he says immediately. "You're my best friend. You know I love you like that, and maybe... god, Jake, I don't know. Maybe it could be more."

"Maybe?" I ask, my hope sinking.

"C'mon, man, look at me," Edward begs, and I hear the legs of his chair screech against the floor. I open my eyes and he's closer to me, our knees touching, and he reaches out for my hand. "I've never really tried, you know? To have like, a real, grown-up relationship or whatever. This is all really fucking new for me, and I can't promise that it's going to work out..."

I want to jerk my hand away, stand up, and run to my bedroom. I want to hide. Edward's squeezing my hand so tightly, though, and I know he won't let me go.

"But I want to try," he says, softly. "I want to try with you, Jake, and I promise that it's not just about sex. You're not an experiment. You're so much more to me."

His words choke me up, and I have to swallow the lump in my throat before I can respond.

"So if we're gonna do this, Edward... it has to just be you and me, no one else," I tell him, needing that assurance.

"Just you and me," he says, nodding resolutely. "I promise."

"No skanks?" I add, letting myself relax a little. Smile a little.

"No skanks," he repeats, smiling back at me. "Just us."

"Okay," I answer, bringing our joined hands up to my mouth. I kiss the back of his hand, needing some further gesture of affection. "So, um, you still gonna make me breakfast?" I ask, done with the heavy questions for now. I'm happy knowing that he wants me, and only me, even if he can't make promises of forever and ever right now.

"Yeah, you want your omelet? With the peppers and the stuff?" he asks, referring to the special omelet he always makes me.

"Yeah, that sounds good," I answer, letting go of his hand as he rises to his feet. He walks behind me, moving to the refrigerator, and I reach across the table for the newspaper. I'm not listening to Edward, so I don't hear his footsteps when he walks back to me.

"Jake?" he asks, and I turn my head to see what he wants. He's close, right next to me, and bending at the waist. His face is right in front of mine, his green eyes blazing and his jaw set in determination.

He leans in, so slowly, and my heartbeat picks up. A lock of his hair brushes my forehead, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. I should close my eyes, but I can't. I can't stop staring at his lips until they finally touch mine.

The kiss is gentle, tentative, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint that I have not to deepen it right away. But it feels right that our first kiss should be sweet, tender, and not born of fumbling, drunken, middle-of-the-night passion. I let him move his lips against mine slowly and cautiously. I rest one hand on his shoulder, he cups my cheek with his hand, and it's perfect. It's absolutely perfect.


	6. Telling

A month later, nothing is different.

Except... everything is different.

We still shoot hoops. We still drink beer and tell stories til two in the morning. We still watch TV and eat Chinese takeout every Thursday.

Sometimes, though, after we play ball, we climb in the shower together and soap each other up. And after a night of drinking and laughing, we crawl into bed together and snuggle. On Thursdays, Edward sits on the couch with me instead of in his favorite recliner. We usually start on opposite ends, but by the time Tina Fey comes on, his arm is around my shoulders or his head is on my lap.

Not everything is easy. My friends all know what's happening between us, but we haven't spent any time with Edward's friends-I don't think they know anything about us. He'll hold my hand in public, but gets uncomfortable when I move to kiss him. Things that I would've let my roommate get away with suddenly become troublesome when it's my boyfriend committing the offense; little things like Edward leaving that stupid bedroom window open bother me more now. It means we'll sleep in my room again, and I feel like Edward keeps me out of his room so he can keep his own space pristine while my sheets get jizz on them and his dirty laundry litters my floor.

We're pretty good at talking shit out, though. No knock-down drag-out fights so far. For the most part, we had a pretty smooth transition. Edward's actually an awesome boyfriend, which surprises me a little; he was such a manwhore before that I worried the relationship stuff would be harder for him than the gay stuff.

Turns out, he's pretty good at both.

One night, that first week, we were kissing on the couch-sharing more of the sweet, tender kisses he'd been giving me for days. I wanted more. I pulled him on top of me, arranging his long limbs so he was straddling my lap, and cupped his face in his hands. He let me deepen the kiss, even darted his tongue out to meet mine, but his posture was tense, awkward.

"What's wrong, E?" I asked, dropping my hands down to his shoulders. I slid them down his body, resting one palm on the small of his back and the other on his hip. His eyes darted down to my thumb where it brushed against his hip bone, and he shook his head.

"I just feel... I don't know, is this okay?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably on my lap.

"Is what okay, baby?" I tilted my head in confusion; surely he couldn't be worried about kissing.

"This," he said, gesturing down at his body. "Sitting on your lap. It just feels kind of... like, shouldn't you be sitting on my lap?"

"Do you want me to sit on your lap?" I countered, understanding his confusion now. "Or do you feel like I should be the one sitting in your lap since I'm the girl?"

"Shit, Jake, you know I don't think you're 'the girl,'" he said, sliding off my lap to sit next to me on the couch. He leaned forward to grab his bottle of beer and took a long pull before turning back to me. "It's just that... I don't know. Before, I never would've sat on someone's lap. So it feels weird to me. I don't know how this is supposed to work. Isn't there generally, like, a 'top' and a 'bottom'?"

I knew I could get pissy with him for the girl comment, but I was glad he was asking questions instead of making assumptions. I knew when I got into this that some things were going to be an adjustment for him.

"Every relationship is different, E. Sometimes there is a very top/bottom, masculine/feminine thing going on. Sometimes it's more equal," I answered, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close again. "Just because I take it up the ass doesn't mean I can't hold you in my lap if I want to."

He flushed red at my example, and I tried not to laugh.

"We just do what we're comfortable with. I know it's weird for you. Just... I don't know. Try not to think about what's the guy thing to do, and just think about what feels good," I suggested, leaning in to kiss down his jawline. "Like this. Does this feel good?" I asked, flicking my tongue out to swipe against his pulse point.

"Yeah," he groaned, tilting his head to the side to give me access.

"How 'bout this?" I asked, nibbling gently on his earlobe.

"Uhhh... not as much," he said, chuckling nervously.

"See? Easy. More neck stuff, less ear stuff," I told him. I wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him over me again, arranging him the same way he'd been before. I bent down to kiss and suck at his neck, drag my teeth across his Adam's apple, and ghost my lips over his jaw. "So how does this feel? Does it feel weird or good?"

"Good," he panted, scooting closer to me. "So good."

I let my hands roam up and down his back as we kissed. I twisted my fingers in his hair and pulled his face closer to mine, loving the way he squrimed against me.

"Shit, Jake," he said, rocking against me to get more friction. I could feel his erection sliding against mine through our basketball shorts, and I tried to thrust up against him to match his rhythm. "You feel so fucking good. I'm gonna cum in my fucking pants again," he grumbled.

"I don't like the sound of that," I told him, slipping my hand under the back of his t-shirt. My palm was flat against his lower back, guiding him as he moved against me. "I want you to cum in my mouth," I told him, whispering the words into his ear before I kissed his neck again.

"Fuck," he moaned, leaning heavily against me. For the first time, I felt his lips pressing against my own neck, tentatively exploring the sensitive skin there, and I moaned with him. He was moving too fast, and I worried that he really was going to cum in his pants. I lifted him off me, pushing him back against the corner of the sofa.

He was panting and palming his erection, watching me and waiting for my next move. I slid down to my knees, crawled between his legs, and toyed with the waistband of his shorts.

"You okay with this?" I asked him, kissing his stomach just above his belly button. His eyes rolled back into his head and he groaned; I took it as a "yes."

"I've dreamed about this, Edward," I told him, honestly, tugging the shorts and his underwear down over his hard cock. "Dreamed about sucking your dick ever since I saw you jerk off for me. I leaned down and took one long, slow lick, from the base to the plump head at the tip.

"Oh, God," Edward moaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head back in pleasure.

"Watch me," I begged him, wrapping my fingers around the base of his cock. His head tilted back down and his eyes opened slowly. I waited for them to meet mine before I pressed my lips to the head of his dick and swirled my tongue around in a circle.

Edward cried out again, an indistinguishable whimper of pleasure.

"Touch me," I commanded, holding his dick against my lips, tapping it gently against my tongue. He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck. When I was sure he was fully present, fully in the moment with me, I lowered my head and took him into my mouth.

He rewarded me with a string of curse words, moans, and pleas.

"Jake, oh my God, that feels so fucking good," he cried, his other hand moving to cup my cheek as I hollowed out my cheeks around his cock.

He didn't last long, but I didn't expect him to; I pulled out all the stops to make it good for him.

"Gonna... Jake... Jake, I'm gonna cum," he whined, his hips bucking up into my mouth. I squeezed tighter with my fist and worked him in and out of my mouth as fast as I could; it only took another minute or so before he was grunting and writhing and cumming in my mouth.

I swallowed everything he gave me and tried to draw out his orgasm for him. When his hands fell away from my face, I let his softening cock slip from my mouth and rested my cheek against his thigh.

"Holy shit," he said, as soon as he was coherent again. "Wow, that was... amazing."

I grinned, dropping my hand down to squeeze my own aching cock. Edward spotted my movement and looked me up and down, appraising.

"Jake... I don't know if... I don't know if I'm ready to uh, reciprocate," he said, nodding towards his crotch.

"It's okay, man. Whatever you feel like doing," I told him, even though a part of me was hoping that he would be up for trying something.

Edward frowned, considering my words, and then reached down to grab my hand. He pulled me up into his lap, and I straddled his legs, mirroring our earlier position.

"I feel like touching you," he said, his hand trailing down my chest. "I feel like watching you cum for me."

His cheeks were blazing and his hand was shaking a little, but he seemed determined.

"Anything you want," I promised, groaning when he released my cock from my shorts. Edward stroked it firmly and grinned, throwing my words back at me.

"Does this feel good?"

Tonight I'm driving across town, nervously checking my mirrors as I fight the rush hour traffic. Edward texted me this afternoon and asked if I wanted to meet him and some of his friends for happy hour, and I said yes automatically. Now I wish I'd asked more questions. Which friends? What do they know?

I pull into the parking lot of an Irish pub, looking for Edward's Volvo. I park next to him, on the side of the building, and head into the bar. Edward waves from a booth in the back, and I can feel myself smiling like an idiot as I make my towards him.

I'm relieved to see at least one familiar face as I get closer; Edward's brother, Emmett, is sitting across from him, next to a tall, lanky blonde guy.

"Fuckface!" Emmett shouts, standing up to pull me into a hug. He's come to visit a dozen times, crashing on our couch, and I'm always glad to see him. Emmett's always up for a good time; we used to plan our parties around his visits, knowing we'd have more fun with him around. He's known I was gay as long as Edward has, and he'd never once made me feel like he was uncomfortable in my presence.

"Hey, good to see you too, asshole," I greet him, thumping him on the back before he releases me. "Edward didn't tell me you were in town."

"Just here for one night, man," he explains, sliding back into the booth next to the blonde. I sit down next to Edward, ignoring the urge to kiss him, touch him, scoot closer. "Got a work thing tomorrow. My boss was supposed to come, but he pussied out at the last minute. I jumped at the chance to get out of the office for two days, plus I knew I'd get to see my baby bro. Hey, Jake, do you know Jasper?" he asks, looking over at the man next to him.

"No, I don't think so," I answer, reaching across the table with my right hand. "Jacob Black."

"Jasper Whitlock," he says, shaking my hand.

"Jasper went to high school with us," Edward offers. "Now he lives over in Bellevue with his wife, Alice. She's from Forks, too. How's she doing, by the way?" he asks, shifting the attention to Jasper.

The waitress comes and takes my drink order, and when I turn back to the conversation they're all talking about other people they knew in high school. I just smile and nod, feeling a little out of the loop. Edward's hand sneaks over to brush against mine under the table, and I squeeze his fingers gratefully.

An hour later, we're all starting to get a little buzzed, and Emmett's telling the story of how he met his new girlfriend.

"So she's like, a ten, right? Like, perfect body, great ass, nice tits," he says, drawing an outline of an hourglass in the air with his hands. "Sorry, Jake," he says, winking in my direction, and I gesture for him to continue.

"And I give her my usual bullshit line about how I was the quarterback at USC, because girls always fall for that shit, and she says, 'Do I look fucking stupid? Mark fucking Sanchez was the quarterback in 2008.' I try to backpedal and say I was a backup QB, but she fucking knew their names too. She didn't even go to USC. Anyway, man, that's when I knew it was meant to be," he explains, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm gonna marry that girl."

"When did you meet her?" Jasper asks. He took the words out of my mouth; I'm surprised that we haven't heard about her before if they're already this serious.

"Last week," Emmett says, his eyes gleaming. We all laugh at him, but he protests loudly, waving us off: "Seriously, you guys, sometimes you just fucking know."

I can see Edward nodding out of the corner of my eye, a smile spreading over his face, and Emmett catches it too.

"What are you grinning about over there, bro? You find yourself a girl worth seeing more than once?" he asks, grinning at Edward. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, wondering if there's a fire alarm nearby that I can pull. I steel myself to hear Edward lie; if he's not ready to tell his family about us, I can't force him into it. It'll still hurt, though.

"I'm dating someone, yeah," he says, and Emmett's eyes go wide with shock.

"Dating someone? Shit, you skipped right over 'fucking,' 'hanging out with,' and 'seeing.' This girl must be special. What's the deal?" he asks, signaling the waitress to bring another round of drinks.

I can't do it. I can't listen to him make up a story about some girl he's fucking. I mumble something about using the restroom and stand up.

But Edward grabs my hand, and pulls me back down.

"I'm with Jake now," he says firmly, looking his brother straight in the eye.

Emmett's jaw drops, and so does mine. I don't know who's more shocked.

"Like... with Jake?" Emmett finally asks, his eyes flickering back and forth between the two of us.

"Yeah," Edward answers, his voice a little less resolute now. "Like, we're dating. We're together." I squeeze his hand, desperate to show him my support. I'm actually pretty desperate to kiss the shit out of him right now, but somehow I think that might make him more uncomfortable.

Emmett whistles, long and low, and leans back against the worn green leather of the booth. He looks back and forth between me and Edward, presumably looking for some sort of clue that would have let him know that we're in a relationship. Jasper is looking down at the table and fiddling with his phone. He's probably pretty fucking uncomfortable himself.

"So wait," Emmett asks, shaking his head as though it will clear his mind. "Have you guys been... together this whole time you've been roommates?"

"No, dude. Just this last month or so," Edward answers, tugging me a little closer to him.

"Huh." Emmett says, taking another sip of beer. It's quiet for a minute, and Emmett's brow is furrowed in thought. Finally, looking back at us, he says, "I guess it makes sense."

Edward and I look at each other, confused.

"Makes sense?" I ask.

"Yeah, I mean, you guys were always like a fucking couple. You like, cook together and have movie nights and talk about feelings and shit," he says, shrugging his shoulders again. "Makes sense."

"Is that all you have to say? No freaking out? No jokes?" Edward asks, leaning forward slightly.

"Nah, man," Emmett says, brushing off Edward's concerns. "Jake's cool. I'm kind of surprised, I guess, but it's cool. Whatever floats your boat, you know? Even if it's another boat." He guffaws loudly at his own joke, and Edward rolls his eyes.

"What about you, Jasper? Got anything to say?" Edward asks, and Jasper jolts to attention.

"What?" he asks, alarmed. "Oh, sorry. I was texting Alice. So you're like, gay now?" he asks, slipping his phone into his pocket. I tense up at his response; Edward hasn't exactly uttered those words before, and I think he's been clinging pretty tightly to his "Jakeosexual" theory.

"I'm with Jake," Edward says, sidestepping the question. "He makes me happy." Emmett and Jasper accept that response easily, and I tune out their conversation as the subject changes.

Instead of listening, I think about Edward's non-answer; how it's the first of many times he's going to be asked the same question. Am I willing to accept it as easily as his straight friends will? Am I willing to be a gay man with a not-gay boyfriend?

I guess I am. Because Edward makes me happy. I squeeze his hand again, under the table, and he squeezes back.


	7. Loving

"Edward, touch me," I beg, spreading my legs wider and pulling my left knee up. I'm flat on my back, with Edward leaning against my right side, and I'm hoping he knows what I mean by opening myself to him like this.

"I am touching you," he counters, twisting his palm around the head of my cock. He ducks his head and kisses me passionately, forcing his tongue into my mouth as he works his hand up and down my shaft.

"Mmmmm," I moan, lifting my head to steal one more kiss before he pulls away. "Need more, Edward, please."

We've spent six weeks doing a ton of making out and jerking each other off, but not much beyond that. I'm happy to go down on Edward on the regular, but he hasn't been able to return the favor. Earlier tonight he did try something new, dropping a few kisses up and down my shaft, and I was happy with the progress... even if he killed me when he pulled away.

I can live without blowjobs-for now-but I'm fucking dying to feel him inside me.

"How, Jake?" he asks, kissing down my shoulder. "How do you need me to touch you?" He makes it sound sensual, like dirty talk, but I'm pretty sure he's also asking for instruction.

"Inside me," I tell him, spreading my legs a little wider. He takes a deep, shaky breath, and his fingers fall away from my cock. I whimper at the loss, but he doesn't pull his hand away.

Instead he traces little circles on my inner thighs, teasing me there until my legs are fucking shaking. He drops his hand to cup my balls, weighing them in his palm and tugging them gently. He lets them go, starts to move lower, and I realize his hand is relatively dry.

"Wait," I tell him, pausing with a quick peck on his lips. I reach over the bedside table and pull the drawer open, grabbing a bottle of lube and a condom. I leave the condom on top of the table and hand the lube to Edward.

He takes it, but he's not looking at it. He's staring at the condom.

"Hey," I tell him, reaching up to cup his jaw. I turn his head away from my nightstand and force him to look in my eyes. "No pressure. It's just there if we need it. If we want to. Okay?"

"Okay," he says, leaning down to kiss me again. This time it's tender; an emotional thank-you-for-going-so-slow kiss.

He arranges himself so he's sitting upright, flips the cap open on the bottle of lube, and drizzles some onto his fingertips.

I wiggle in anticipation as he drops his hand again, and he smiles down at me and my desperation.

I feel two slick fingers circling, probing, and I tense up a little.

"Start with one, okay?" I remind him, and he chuckles.

"I know, Jake. Relax," he urges me, reaching up to squeeze my shoulder with his free hand. In all our hours of late night conversation, he's admitted to having (and enjoying) anal sex with girls, so I feel pretty good about letting him near my ass.

His hand on my shoulder drifts over my neck, my collarbones, my chest. The light, swirling touches make me shiver in anticipation, even as I feel the finger of his other hand start to press more firmly against me. I can't help but gasp when it slips inside; it's been so long since I've been filled there, and the fact that it's Edward, my Edward, makes it so much better.

"God, yes," I tell him, reaching up to touch his shoulder, his neck. I want to be touching him as much as possible, in every way.

"Feels good?" he asks, but he's smirking a little. I think Edward's been uncomfortable being the inexperienced one; only when he has me panting and cumming in his hands do I see the old, cocky Edward come back.

"Really good," I tell him, wiggling against his finger.

I'm about to beg for more, for a second finger, when I notice his movement slowing down. He's not sliding in and out anymore, just moving his finger inside me, wiggling it around. His smirk has disappeared and he has an intense look of concentration on his face-it's kinda funny.

"E, what are you doing?" I ask, trying to stifle a laugh.

"I'm trying to find it," he says, swirling his finger around. I recall Edward's fascination with the idea of the prostate-he told me that he's never played around and tried to find his own, so he had no idea how good it can feel. Last week, instead of trying to explain the feeling, I pulled up a video on my laptop of a guy having a screaming orgasm without his dick ever being touched. Edward's eyes turned into saucers as he watched the man beg, scream, and cry in pleasure.

"Try to touch me here," I guide him, resting my finger against the base of my cock. His finger starts to slip out, and I correct him. "No, inside. Just pretend like our fingers are magnets."

He gets it then, and starting exploring again.

"It feels like a little bump, I guess, like a ball," I guide him, moaning as I feel a second finger start pressing against me from the outside. "You'll know it when you- oh, fuck!"

He found it.

"Right there?" he asks, his face lit up with a grin.

"Yes," I hiss, my hand drifting to my cock. I wrap my fingers around it, but Edward swats my hand away.

"No," he says, "I wanna play." He pushes a second finger inside and I wince at the good, tight, stretchy feeling. He works both fingers in and out, hooking them slightly so they drag against my prostate, making me moan like a little bitch.

He's getting closer to me as he works, no longer sitting upright. His long, lean body is pressed up against mine, and I can feel his dick pressing against my leg.

"God, E, I can feel how fucking hard you are," I groan, lifting my head a few inches so we can kiss. There's nothing hesitant about this kiss, it's deep and thorough and so fucking satisfying.

Edward is grinding against my thigh, slowly, and I can feel his fingers moving apart, scissoring inside me, stretching me. Preparing me.

"Baby, do you want to?" I ask him, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him close. "Do you want to fuck me? It's okay if you're not ready... but God, I fucking want you."

"I want you, too," he says, nodding his head. A soft lock of his hair brushes against my forehead, and he tilts his head to kiss me sweetly. "It feels... right."

My heart fucking swells, knowing he's happy with me, with us, with this.

Edward pulls his fingers from me, and I wince at the loss. I feel way too empty now. He leans across to grab the condom from my nightstand and flops onto his back to open it. I kiss him as he rolls it down his cock, covering his neck and his chest in little kisses. I grab the lube away from him and pour some into my palm before wrapping it around his cock.

He grunts and gasps as I stroke him firmly, coating him with lube. "Jake, how do you want... how do you want to do this?" he asks, turning on his side to face me.

"Just like this," I tell him, letting go of his dick and urging him up. He complies, climbing over my leg and settling between my knees.

"Do you need more?" he asks, his still-slick fingers sliding between my cheeks.

"No, I'm ready," I tell him. "Just... just kiss me, again," I beg, hoping it doesn't sound too pathetic. He doesn't laugh at me, though, or blanch at my request. He bends over, his slick cock brushing against mine, and kisses me fiercely.

I can feel the emotion in it, and it chokes me up.

He kisses me for so long that I wonder if he's forgotten what we're doing here.

When he pulls away, finally, he rests his forehead against mine for a moment, breathing heavily. "Jake," he says. "Jake..."

He's nervous.

"It's okay, baby," I tell him, stroking his cheek. "We can go slow. Or we can stop, we don't have to do this," I assure him. My dick is protesting that idea, but I know we'll regret it if we rush things.

"I've just never..." he says, shaking his head slowly, his nose brushing mine. "I've never done this with someone that means so much to me. With someone... that I love." My heart lurches at his confession. I didn't think this moment could be any better, any more perfect, but it is-I've never felt more sure that we're meant to do this. To love each other this way.

"It'll be so good, Edward," I promise him, blinking away my tears. "Everything with you feels perfect. Amazing. Every kiss," I tell him, pressing my lips to his cheek. "Every touch," I add, letting my fingers grip his shoulder and then trail lightly down his back. "Everything about you." I punctuate that by thrusting my hips up against his, and he groans as I move against him.

"So good," he echoes, kissing the corner of my mouth before he leans back, sitting up on his knees. He looks down and lines us up, scooting forward just an inch before pressing the head of his cock against me.

He watches, fascinated, as his dick pushes inside me. I can't tear my eyes away from his face, watching him bite his lip as we come together.

"Christ, Jake, you're so fucking tight," he says, reaching up with one hand to push the hair out of his eyes. He's sweating with the effort of going so slowly, of pushing into me an inch at a time.

"You feel perfect, baby," I tell him, spreading my knees a little wider for him.

He stays on his knees until he's fully seated, until every inch of him is inside me, and then he falls forward to kiss me again. His kisses are sloppier this time, desperate, needy.

"C'mon, please," I beg him, shifting my hips underneath him. "Fuck me, Edward. I need you to."

He groans and drops his head against my shoulder.

"It's too good, it's too much," he says. "I'm gonna cum so fast."

"It's fine, E, it's fine. Don't worry about that. I want you to feel good," I promise, running my fingers through his hair. "Just please, just... fucking move, please?"

Edward lifts himself up a little them, resting on his left elbow and gripping my shoulder with his right hand. He pulls back slowly, and I watch his eyelids flutter as he feels my body trying to hold him in.

"Fuck," he groans, pushing back in slowly. Too slowly, for my taste-it's like fucking torture-but I know he needs to go at his own pace.

He moves just like that for a few minutes, slowly and carefully, with his face buried against my shoulder. It feels good, but it's not enough.

"Edward, I need you to... I need it harder, baby, please," I beg, trying fruitlessly to speed up our rhythm. I don't have any leverage like this, though, and I'm just straining against him.

"Harder?" he says, sitting up on his knees again. "Or faster?"

"Yes," I answer, nodding very seriously. He smiles, resting his hands on top of my knees.

"Like this?" he asks, thrusting into me, taking my breath away.

"Fuck, yes," I tell him, gasping and reaching down to wrap my fingers around my cock.

Edward likes harder. He relaxes a little when he realizes he's not going to blow his load immediately, and I get to watch his muscles tense and flex as he puts some force into his thrusts.

"Am I hitting it?" he asks. I tilt my head in confusion, and then I realize what he means.

"No, baby," I answer, honestly. "You would know."

He frowns and his rhythm falters just a little.

"It's okay, though, it's okay. It still feels good, it feels amazing," I assure him. But he's fucking determined.

He hooks his elbow under my knee and pushes it back, folding it up against my chest. He leans backwards and tilts himself forward, trying different angles, watching my face.

"Holy shit!" I yelp, bucking my hips against his. He's found it; the perfect angle, the perfect position. I can feel every inch of him sliding in and out of me, and the thick head of his cock nudging my spot with every thrust.

"That's it, isn't it?" he gasps, panting with exertion and excitement.

"Yes, oh fuck, yes," I moan, my hand flying faster over my own cock, swollen and needy and about to erupt. "Gonna make me cum, baby," I warn him, sucking in a deep breath.

"Me too," he says. "Fuck. Me too, Jake. Fucking cum with me, please, " he begs, slamming into me over and over again. I couldn't hold off if I tried.

I can feel my own cum spilling out onto my hand and my stomach, but the orgasm feels like it's coming from deeper inside me. It's like my whole body is shaking, tensing, exploding. I can hear my own voice but I have no idea what I'm saying-my brain seems to have temporarily shut down. All I can feel is Edward over me, inside me, on top of me.

He says my name when he cums. Screams it.

When it's over, when we're both spent and sweaty and sticky, he pulls out and collapses on top of me.

"Wow," he says, his face buried in my shoulder again.

"Yeah," I answer, not able to find the words to tell him how I feel. Not just yet.

He rolls off of me, onto his back, and my body follows him automatically. I curl into his side and he tucks me under his arm, holding me close. We lie like that for a few minutes, until we both catch our breath. Edward strokes my back lazily and I drop tiny, reverent little kisses on his chest.

"It's definitely better," he says, finally, breaking the silence. He kisses my forehead, and I look up at him.

"With a guy?" I ask.

"With you," he says. "With someone I love," he clarifies, his eyes flickering around my face. He looks really fucking vulnerable, and I realize that I didn't say it back to him before. I feel like I've been loving him so long he should just know. I think those words a thousand times a day.

But he doesn't just know. He needs to hear it, too.

"I love you," I tell him, tracing his lips with the tip of my finger.

They curl up slowly, into my favorite smile.

"Love you too, Jake," he says.


	8. Trying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some homophobic slurs and mild violence.

t's not the first time someone's called Edward a faggot.

Hell, the first time was probably 15 years ago, on a playground, playing basketball with some other little kids that didn't even really know what the word meant. They just knew it was mean.

At my high school, guys threw words like that around like they meant nothing: "You coming to the party, queer?" "Stop being such a fag and drink it." "This faggot over here called his mom to tell her he's going to be late."

I got into a lot of fights in high school.

I don't hear it much anymore now that I live in a city... now that I've packed on forty pounds of muscle.

Edward and I got called fags a few times when we were roommates. Loading groceries into the car at Costco, walking home from a club together, marching defiantly in a demonstration for equal rights. He let it roll off his back then. He kept me calm, told me to ignore it. Told me that those people were ignorant and what they said didn't matter.

It's not the first time someone's called Edward a faggot.

But it is the first time someone's called him a faggot since he started dating me. Kissing me, loving me, fucking me.

We're at the farmer's market, looking for some goddamn ridiculous herb that Edward wants to try, and he's getting annoyed because he can't find it.

"I swear, it was here fucking last week," he grumbles.

"Why didn't you buy it fucking last week?" I tease. He rolls his eyes at me.

"Shut it," he says, but I can tell he's not mad. He pushes me aside, wiggles his way between me and the display, and continues poking through the poorly labeled herbs for sale.

He's so close to me that I can't resist-I do it on instinct. Just one little kiss, one little brush of my lips on the back of his neck. I know he gets nervous about PDA, but he likes this kiss. He shudders and inhales sharply. Just as I'm thinking about teasing him some more, dragging him home, and kissing every inch of his neck and his shoulders, I hear it.

"Get a room, faggots," a man spits, the hatred in his voice making the word even more bitter than usual.

Edward turns to face him, and I place a steadying hand on his lower back. He's angry. He's fucking furious.

He throws the first punch.

 

Last night we covered some new ground. We've covered a lot of fucking new ground in the four months we've been together, but this was big. Uncharted waters.

We were sitting on Edward's bed in our boxers, playing the new Mortal Kombat game on his PS3. I was kicking his ass.

It was fun. We were joking around, taunting each other, talking shit. He kept trying to elbow me and throw me off my game, but I retaliated by smacking the controller out of his hand every chance I got. I egged him on. Edward likes competition-it makes him horny. It makes him... aggressive. I fucking love it when he's all sexy and demanding.

When the game was over and Edward conceded in a huff, he turned off the TV and tossed his controller to the floor.

"So do you wanna grab dinner, or-" I asked, but he interrupted me. Tackled me. Kissed me.

He covered his body with mine, squeezing roughly at my shoulders, my sides, my ass. He pulled away, leaving me gasping for breath, just long enough to say, "Fuck dinner."

I twisted my fingers in his hair and pulled his face down to my neck.

"I fucking love how horny you get when we play video games," I told him, spreading my legs to make room for him. He was already so fucking hard-when he thrust against me I could feel my dick catching up.

He kissed down my throat, over my collarbone, and down my chest. He lingered at my nipples, pinching and twisting at one while he sucked on the other.

"Feels so good," I told him, writhing underneath him already. The way he was kissing down my body made me desperate for his mouth. He had eased himself into blowjobs slowly, but he was getting pretty fucking good at it.

At first he'd just given my cock a few kisses while he jerked me off, just little innocent pecks. I didn't push him, just waited for him to explore on his own. I gave him a lot of fucking feedback though-the first time he wrapped his lips around the head of my dick, I used every swear word known to man. I told Edward he was a fucking god and he made me feel like one too.

"Bite it," I begged him, pushing him down against my nipple. He complied, nipping and sucking as his hands got more adventurous, slipping underneath the waistband of my boxers.

He pulled them down slowly as his lips trailed down my stomach. There was no hesitation, just hunger in his eyes when he reached my dick and started lapping at it with his tongue.

"Want me to bite this, too?" he asked, playfully, scraping his teeth so lightly against the sensitive head.

"You better not fucking bite me," I warned, wrapping my hand around the base of my cock. I stroked it lightly while Edward licked and sucked at the head.

"Don't wanna bite you," he said, tapping his tongue against the underside. "Want you to cum so hard you fucking pass out."

He batted my hand away then, hooking two of his own fingers around my cock and angling it just right before taking it into his mouth. "Christ, Edward, that feels so fucking good," I told him, tightening my fingers in his hair.

I grabbed another pillow and stuck it under my head with my free hand, propping myself up so I could watch him. So hot, so beautiful, so fucking sexy when he closed his eyes and concentrated hard on taking me deeper.

His free hand was on my chest, scratching at me lightly, idly circling my nipple with his finger. I tossed my head to the side, overwhelmed with sensation when he pinched me there. When I opened my eyes, I got an idea.

There was a bottle of lube sitting on Edward's nightstand.

I reached over and grabbed it, opened it quietly, and poured a little in my palm. I let go of Edward's hair, lifted his free hand from my chest, and wrapped my slick palm around two of his fingers. He looked up at me, startled, but he didn't stop sucking.

"Touch me?" I asked, lifting my left knee. I pulled it back, opening myself up to him, and Edward's rhythm slowed as he adjusts. I let go of his fingers and watched him drag his hand down my body, watched it disappear between my legs.

It was a little bit stunted at first, and Edward had to release my cock so he could concentrate on pushing into me gently. Once he penetrated me with one finger and eased a second into me, he held them still while he started sucking me again, getting his rhythm back.

"God, yes," I sighed, my body moving automatically with Edward's ministrations. He found a rhythm pretty fast; up and in, down and out. He worked me slowly, building me up until I was panting, screaming, begging him to make me cum.

"Please, Edward, please, fuck!" I cried, thrusting up into his mouth. He curled his fingertips inside me, dragging them against the spot he had grown to know so well, and bobbed his head wildly. When my orgasm hit me I twisted both of my hands in his hair roughly and screamed through it.

I was floating, afterward. So fucking high from cumming that hard. Edward kissed up my body, reached over the side of the bed and wiped his hand on a discarded t-shirt. I couldn't move, so I just laid back and let him kiss me, touch me softly, until I came back to Earth.

When I opened my eyes again, he looked nervous. Apprehensive.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey," he echoed, smiling at me. I lifted my head, puckered my lips, invited him to kiss me. When he stretched his body out next to mine, I could feel how hard he still was.

"I think it's your turn," I whispered, reaching down to palm his erection. "After that performance, baby, I'll do anything you want. You want me to suck your cock?" I asked, squeezing him gently as I kissed at his neck.

"I want..." he started, and then paused. Swallowed. Ducked his head into my shoulder. "I want you to do that to me," he whispered.

"Suck you off?" I asked, surprised at his sudden shyness. All of his aggression and confidence from before was gone.

"Yeah," he said. "And uh, the other thing, too..."

Oh.

Oh!

The one thing that had been completely off the table until then was Edward's ass. He flipped out when I just brushed my fingers between his cheeks once, and I'd left it alone since then.

"You sure, baby?" I asked him, not wanting to jump into something new unless he's completely on board.

"Jake, when I do it to you... Christ, you cum so fucking hard. I can see it," he said, and I nodded in acknowledgement. "I wanna feel it too," he admitted.

I grinned, reached up, and pulled him down to me for a kiss. He pulled away after a second though, to clarify what he wanted. "Just your finger," he said, holding up his index finger and adding, "One."

"Got it," I told him, pushing him back against the pillow. I distracted him with my lips, kissing him senseless until the tension and the embarrassment melted away. I kissed and licked over every square inch of his abs, his hipbones, his upper thighs, carefully ignoring the throbbing, purple head of his cock.

"Jake, come on, please," he whined, eventually grabbing the back of my head and trying to guide me to where he needed me. I pushed his knee back, spreading him open for me in the same position I'd been in.

I was careful and slow as I took him into my mouth, not wanting to build him up too fast. I wanted him to get the full effect. I dragged out the blowjob, licking, kissing, exploring. I teased his balls, weighing them in my hand, and tickled the skin beneath them with my finger. Tentatively, I let it slip further down until I was tracing his hole.

This is where he flipped out before, but now he just groans in pleasure. Pushes against me. Moans my name.

I teased him some more, circling around his entrance, dragging my finger back up to his balls and then down again.

I had him so lost that he didn't seem to notice my hands moving or the click of the cap as I opened the lube again.

He jumped a little when he felt my finger return, slick and more insistent, between his cheeks. I distracted him by sucking hard, hollowing out my cheeks around him, and humming.

That time I made smaller, tighter circles with my finger, spreading some of the wetness around. I pushed in so gently, just barely stretching him with the tip of my finger, and he hissed.

"It's okay," he said, "I'm okay." I didn't know if that was for me or for his own reassurance, but I took him at his word.

I worked my finger in and out slowly, so slowly, just a quarter of an inch at a time. His ass was so fucking tight, so fucking hot, but I could feel him slowly start to relax around my finger.

When it was in, all the way in, I started moving my mouth faster, harder, in the long, deep strokes that Edward prefers.

"Yeah, oh yeah, God that's good, Jake," he said, one hand tugging at his hair and the other hand in mine.

I curled my finger slightly, moved it in an out a little more vigorously, and felt for the little spot that would drive Edward insane.

I expected him to swear or to shout when I found it, but he didn't. His body tensed, his hips bucked up into my mouth, and he fucking cried.

"Jacob, oh God!" he sobbed, his face twisted in pleasure. "Don't stop, please," he begged, his whole body quivering.

I didn't stop. I pushed him higher and kept him there, savoring his gasps and moans and little yelps of "Jake" and "yes" and "fuck."

When his body took over and started to tremble, when his ass started clenching tighter around my finger, I let him fall. I sucked him deep into my mouth and swallowed around the head of his dick, fucking him furiously with my finger at the same time.

He came for minutes, hours, days. He filled my mouth, gave me so much to swallow, and I took it all. He clawed at his own chest and tugged at my hair, thrashing through it all before he fell back against his pillow, spent.

I pulled my finger out of him slowly, carefully. I let his cock fall from my lips and kissed it as it softened against his thigh. He was still panting as I wiped up with the same t-shirt Edward had used earlier.

I scooted up to the head of the bed, pulled him close, and kissed his forehead.

"Wow," he mumbled, falling limp against my chest. "That was... fuck, that was awesome."

"Love you," I whispered, kissing his temple.

"Love you too," he murmured, curling into me, soft and sweet.

 

But that was last night, when we were alone and snuggled up in Edward's bed.

Right now he's punching some redneck, straddling his chest, breaking his glasses.

"Shut the fuck up!" Edward shouts, and he struggles against me as I try to pull him up and off the guy. He stopped putting up a fight, just laid there as Edward beat the shit out of him, and he looks like he's gonna have two black eyes tomorrow.

"Let me go!" Edward says, pushing me away. "Did you hear that motherfucker?"

"Yeah, I heard him, Ed," I say, wrapping one arm around his chest. I twist his right hand behind his back, trying to restrain him and drag him away before the cops show up.

"Didn't you fucking hear him, J? Let me go kick his ass. Hateful fucking bigoted motherfucker," he spits.

"He's not worth it, baby," I tell him, pulling him further away from the guy. Finally, he stops fighting me and relaxes. "Let's just go home, come on," I prompt him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

He shrugs it off, he pulls away.

He walks with me to the car, but he keeps his distance. No fingers brushing together, no playful elbows to the side, no eye contact.

He doesn't look at me the whole way home.


	9. Running

I run through the rain, focusing on the horizon ahead of me instead of the chill in the morning air or the puddles at my feet.

Edward usually runs with me on Saturdays, but today he didn't feel like it. Today, he wanted to stay in bed.

So I'm running by myself, pushing myself to go faster than I would if he were here. To cover the same ground but do it faster, so I can get back to him sooner.

We never talked about the fight at the farmer's market last month; Edward grabbed his gym bag and took off in his car as soon as we got home. He returned a few hours later, drenched in sweat, and acted normally; he kissed me, said hello, guzzled some Gatorade and then took a shower.

I wanted to bring it up, to ask him why he was suddenly so angry and if he was feeling guilty or nervous or scared about being out in public. Out in public, with me. But Edward was in such a good mood after his shower, flopping down on the couch next to me, snuggling and making plans for dinner. I didn't want to upset him, so I decided to wait a day.

A day turned into a few days, which turned into a week, which turned into a month... and we just never talked about it. He's been more distant since then-one night last week he came home late, after I'd gone to sleep, and he slept in his own bed, alone, for the first time in months. When I asked him about in the morning, he said it was no big deal. He said he was tired, that he just passed out there, but I couldn't help but wonder if he was being completely honest.

We have more good days than bad, though, and he still tells me he loves me every day. I just can't shake the feeling that there's something else going on-some piece of himself he's not sharing with me.

Turning back onto our street, I feel my flagging strength return. I speed up just a little, racing back to my apartment. To Edward. We had fun together last night, and I tell myself that today's gonna be a good day.

I take the elevator instead of the stairs, giving myself time to catch my breath before I get home. I expect Edward to be cooking or watching TV when I walk in, but he's nowhere to be seen-probably still in the bedroom, sleeping. I kick off my shoes and stretch out a little bit, bending down to massage my sore calf muscles.

I see Edward's feet approaching before I hear him. "Hey," I greet him, switching to my left leg. He catches me off guard with a loud, solid slap to my ass.

"Jesus, E!" I yelp, standing up and turning away. "What was that for?"

He grins and moves in closer, reaching around to rub soothing circles on the side that he'd just smacked.

"I don't know," he says. "Looked like you were asking for it." His eyes are sparkling with mischief and he's leaning into me, pressing his hard-on against my thigh.

"Looks like someone was waiting for me to get home," I tease, sliding my thumb into the belt loop on the back of his worn jeans. I press my palm flat against his ass and bring him even closer. "You wanna take a shower with me?" I ask, dropping a kiss at the base of his neck.

"No," he says, twisting his fingers in the fabric of my t-shirt. "I want you like this. All hot and sweaty." He pulls the shirt up over my head, tosses it to the floor, and rubs his hands up and down my sides.

I twist my neck to kiss him, but he buries his face in my shoulder, kissing and nipping at the skin there. He sucks hard, right above my collarbone, and it's almost painful. It would be painful, if he weren't rocking his hips against mine, using his cock to distract me.

When he relents, pulls away from that tender spot, I try to push him backwards. "Bedroom," I gasp, even as his fingers move between us to tug at the waistband of my shorts.

"No," Edward declares. "Here. Right now." He crouches down swiftly, tugging my shorts and my boxer briefs down with him, and I lift my feet one at a time so he can pull them away. He's so hard, so fucking turned on, that I expect him to pull me to the floor with him and start preparing me right away. Instead he settles down on his knees, and wraps both of his arms around me.

Edward's gotten better at blowjobs; he's gotten really good at them, but he always starts slowly. Like he's psyching himself up for it. Today, though, there's no build-up. No little kisses on my thighs, no tentative swipes of his tongue. He wraps his lips around my head and pulls me into his mouth.

"Jesus, fuck," I spit, tightening my fingers in his hair. He gags a little and pulls back, but it doesn't stop him. Over and over, he takes my cock deeply into his mouth, accepting a little more into his throat each time.

"Edward, gonna make me cum too fast," I warn him, resting my free hand against the wall and leaning against it for support. His mouth just moves faster, his fingers digging into the cheeks of my ass. His grip is tight and I imagine him leaving bruises on my skin-just fingertip bruises, to match the hickey on my neck. The thought of him all over me, of wearing Edward on my skin for the next few days, pushes me into my orgasm.

He moans, feeling me pulse into his mouth, and holds me even tighter.

"Oh, God," I cry, holding his head against me. I can feel him working me, feel his tongue moving and his cheeks hollowing, even as I'm cumming.

When I'm finished, when I'm absolutely spent and shaking hard from my orgasm, he lets me go. My softening cock slips out of his mouth, and I feel my knees start to buckle. I let myself collapse on the floor and lean into him, burying my face in his neck.

Edward sits back, straightens out his legs, and pulls me into his lap. He holds me tight, running his fingers through my hair and kissing my temple while we both catch our breath.

"Where the hell did that come from?" I ask, curious as to what's made him so frisky. He's quiet for a minute, squeezing my shoulders before he answers.

"I just wanted to," he says, his voice softer now. The teasing edge to his voice-the aggressive, demanding talk-is gone. I try to lift my head, desperate to see his face, but he holds me tight, pressing my face into his shoulder.

"Edward... baby, are you okay? Is something wrong?" I ask him, wrapping an arm around his waist. He's quiet, just holding me tight. I feel so exposed, naked and still twitching from cumming, but somehow he seems more vulnerable than I do right now. "Edward?"

"Nothing's wrong," he says, with an artificial lightness to his voice. "I just love you. I wanted to make you feel good. Nothing wrong with that, is there?" he asks, loosening his hold on me. I tilt my head so I can look up at him. He leans back against the wall and smiles down at me, cupping my chin in his hand.

I should press him, because something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones; I don't know what it is, but I know that Edward isn't acting like himself. My Edward is confident and fun and cheeky; I thought he was playing with me before, just trying something new, but in retrospect it feels too different, too desperate.

I shift on his lap, moving my hips around, but I can't feel his erection anymore.

"Let's go take a shower, okay?" he asks, patting my thigh so I'll stand up.

"We should talk, you know... if something's wrong, baby, I want to know what it is. I want to help," I tell him, clinging to him tightly.

"Christ, Jake," he says, covering his eyes with his hand. "Nothing's wrong, okay? Just drop it. Just go take a shower."

I want to find the words that will make him talk to me, but I don't know what to say. He's a stubborn bastard, and if he's not ready to talk, he won't. I stand up, pull on my discarded shorts, and offer Edward a hand. He lets me help him up, but disappears into the kitchen instead of following me to the bathroom.

I strip, again, and turn the water on. My mind races the entire time I'm in the shower, going over the last few days, the last few weeks, trying to figure out what's different. Trying to figure out what could've made Edward act like this. I don't think it's just the fight he had at the farmer's market; we've had plenty of nice, normal days since then. It has to be something else.

For the first time since that night Edward crawled into my bed, I wish that things were different. Because as much as I love the man down the hall, I'm starting to miss my best friend. Edward is the one I would normally go to in this situation. The person who would reassure me that I did nothing wrong. The person who would tell me that any man who isn't open with me, who isn't proud of me, who doesn't make me feel loved, isn't worth my time.

I stand in the spray, letting it wash the sweat and soap from my body, wondering what I should do.

"Jake?" Edward calls.

"Jesus!" I shriek, jumping in surprise. "Yeah?"

"Sorry, sorry," he says, and his voice gets louder as he steps closer. I can see him through the shower curtain, just a fuzzy outline of his frame. "I'm going down to that bakery to get the bread you like. I'll make us sandwiches when I get back, okay? You want anything else while I'm out?"

Don't go to the fucking bakery, I think. Stay here and tell me what to do. Tell me how to make you happy. Kiss me, fuck me, do something to make this better.

There are a lot of things I want to say, but when I open my mouth, all that comes out is "No, thanks."

"'Kay," he says, moving back toward the door. "I'll be back soon."

I finish my shower, wrap a towel around my waist, and pad into my bedroom to find something to wear. Except most of my clothes are in Edward's room right now, so I can't find my favorite jeans. I push his door open and wade through the piles of crap, digging into the clean laundry basket to look for my lucky Levi's.

I find them and plop down on Edward's bed to pull them on. I yelp and move over when I sit on something hard-his laptop is lying on the bed, mostly covered by a sheet. I move it out of the way and finish getting dressed, pulling socks on over my feet.

I have time to kill before he comes home, so I grab his laptop and decide to check my email. I open it up and click on the browser, but another window is already open. Part of me wants to close the computer and walk away; it's Edward's laptop and whatever he's doing on the Internet is his business.

Yeah. I'm too nosy to walk away.

I open the window, and a movie starts playing. It was obviously paused, halfway through. It's a girl, a skanky blonde, getting fucked. The guy is mostly out of the frame, all you can see is his cock and his pasty, white thighs.

It's porn. Straight porn. Bad straight porn, starring some fake-looking porn star girl with big hair and fake nails and fake tits. Not even the kind of girl Edward used to like.

I wonder why he left this open, why it's stopped halfway through. He knows I use his computer, and he uses mine, so it's not like I'm snooping just by opening it up.

Unless...

Oh.

I came home early. I ran faster, so I could come home early and be with him. I cut my route short, too, and I was probably ten minutes early. There are five minutes left in the movie.

My chest starts to tighten as the last half an hour replays itself-Edward greeting me, slapping my ass, pressing his dick up against me. He wasn't hard because of me; he hadn't been thinking about me, waiting for me. It was this girl.

And because I'm a masochist, I pull up his browsing history. There are two other movies before this one, both from the same site. I pull them up, one at a time, and let them play. The same girl.

The sound of the front door opening startles me, and I slam the laptop shut, sliding it to the other side of the bed. I don't know what to say to him yet; I don't even know what I think about this yet. Edward's footsteps are heavy; he's wearing his boots. He's moving around in the kitchen.

What do I say? I have a million questions I want to ask him and I don't know where to start. I'm afraid.

I'm afraid that this means he's actually straight. That I'm not what he really wants, that I never will be. That he's losing interest in me and he needs this to get it up for me. That no matter how much he loves me, I won't ever take the place of what he really needs.

And when I pull my legs up on the bed and wrap my arms around them, lay my head on my knees, and let my mind go to a darker place... I'm afraid that I was never enough for him. That he lied to me, and maybe this was just an experiment.

I banish the thought, though, because I know in my heart that it's not true. He loves me. He loves me, and no straight man would go through what he's gone through-being with me in public, telling his friends and family about us, making love with me sweetly-just for the sake of experimentation. Just for the sake of scratching an itch or satisfying his curiosity. I know that he loves me.

I just don't know if that's enough. I don't know if he loves me the way I deserve to be loved-completely, passionately, and without reservation. The way I love him. I need him to be my boyfriend, my partner, maybe even my husband someday, but that isn't possible if he can't give up on this idea of being straight.

It's not about the porn. It's about Edward choosing between being straight and being with me. I thought he had made his decision, but this makes me realize that maybe he hasn't. That maybe he never will. And if I force him to decide... I'm not sure that he'll choose me.

Thunk. Thunk. The sound of Edward toeing off his heavy boots, dropping them in the hall closet.

I hear his footsteps coming down the hall, his hands drumming against his thighs absently.

"Jake? Do you wanna eat or-" he asks, walking into his bedroom. He stops when he sees me like this, my face buried between my knees, my body curled up protectively. "Jake, is everything okay?" he asks softly.

I can see them clearly, the two choices I have. There's really no in-between; it's a yes or no question. Yes, I can tell him. Everything's fine, let's go have lunch.

And we'll have lunch, and things will stay the same, or they'll get worse, but they probably won't get better.

Or I could say no. No, things aren't okay. We have to talk.

And it will suck. He will deny that there's a problem, tell me it's no big deal, and avoid talking about his feelings. I'll cry, and yell, and maybe throw some shit. And maybe I'll lose him, forever.

Slowly, so slowly, I start to shake my head. I know what I have to do. I have to I tell the truth.

"No."


	10. Choosing

__

Don't lose who you are, in the blur of the stars  
Seeing is deceiving, dreaming is believing  
It's okay not to be okay.  
Sometimes it's hard, to follow your heart  
Tears don't mean you're losing, everybody's bruising  
Just be true to who you are.

-Jessie J, "Who You Are"

"Jake, is everything okay?"

"No," I breathe, shaking my head slowly. I lift it from my knees, so I can look into his eyes, and I can tell that he's genuinely worried.

He closes the distance between us, sits next to me on the bed, and wraps one arm around my shoulders.

"Jacob... talk to me, you look really upset," he says, pressing his lips to my shoulder. I can't be this close to him and say what I need to say, so I shrug him off, scoot to the center of the bed, and cross my legs under me. Edward's eyes are wide, watching me move away from him, and I see them flicker nervously to his laptop.

"Yeah," I tell him, acknowledging that I saw what was on his computer. He opens his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. "It's okay, I'm not mad. I mean, you have really shitty taste in porn, but I'm not mad."

"Jake, you need to listen. Jasper sent me those links. That girl? We went to high school with her. He just thought I'd want to see it out of curiosity," Edward says, reaching out to grip my knee. "I swear, you can read my email. I just watched it to see if it was really Jessica."

I can tell that he's telling the truth. It comforts me a little, to know that he wasn't seeking it out, but it doesn't change anything.

"But you liked it," I tell him, softly. "You were watching this before I came home and it made you... it turned you on."

Edward shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest defensively. "I guess... I mean I wasn't jerking off or anything, but it's porn. It made my dick hard."

"It's straight porn," I correct him, staring down at my knees. He cuts me off almost immediately.

"Well I'm fucking-" he says, stopping abruptly in the middle of his sentence. I lift my eyes to meet his. It's quiet for a minute, and I give him time to make up an end to the sentence, to say something other than what we both know he was going to say, but he doesn't.

"Straight, right? That's what you were gonna say," I prompt. He shakes his head, but his mouth stays closed. He drops his head to his hands and hides his face for a minute before sliding his fingers up into his hair.

"I don't know." His voice is quiet, sad, strained.

"Yeah, you do. You like girls," I tell him, adding in a whisper, "and I'm not a girl."

He goes from sad and vulnerable to angry in the time it takes me to blink.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Jacob? I like girls, but I fucking love you. Jesus, are you seriously telling me you doubt that right now?" He's practically shouting, and his anger stirs mine.

"I know you love me, but I also know I'm never going to be enough for you! If you stay with me, you can't be a 'straight guy' for the rest of your life!" I shout back, scrambling to get off the bed, to get some distance. I pace the length of the room, my hand rubbing the back of my neck, trying to catch my breath. "I'm never gonna make you happy, not in the long run. It's not gonna work. You're gonna leave me," I tell him, leaning back against the far wall, dropping my eyes to the floor.

"Bullshit," he says, quietly.

"What?"

"I said bullshit!" he yells. He jumps off the bed and strides over to me quickly, purposefully. "That's bullshit and you fucking know it. You make me happy every goddamn day; you're just making excuses. I changed everything for you, Jacob. Everything! Do you know how long my longest relationship was before we got together? Two fucking weeks." Edward leans into me, slamming one palm against the wall beside my head.

"You know I'd never even thought about another man like this. And then everything that happened with us... when you saw me jerking off, and then that first night, in your bed... fuck, I was so fucking confused, but it felt so good, and it finally felt right. I'd never had all these fucking feelings attached to sex before, and it scared the crap out of me," he confesses. His voice is starting to waver and his eyes are watering, but he still looks angry.

"Edward, I-"

"No, just fucking let me talk," he spits. "I couldn't reconcile it. I wasn't gay, so it didn't make sense. I fucking tortured myself trying to figure out what was so wrong with me, that I could be attracted to girls and still be fucking falling in love with you."

I reach out to touch him, because I need him closer. His words are breaking my heart, and my resolve. I wrap my hand around his hip and try to pull him to me, but he won't budge.

"But I did it, Jake. I made sense of it, I made it fucking work. I swallowed my pride and my fear and I dove into a relationship with you because... because you're it. You're my person, the one person that has ever made me feel this happy, or crazy, or turned on."

"And now... now you're telling me that you don't think it's gonna work? Because I'm too straight? You're telling me that you don't think you can make me happy when you're the only person who ever has? That's bullshit, Jake, you know it. This is your issue, not mine." His words cut into me, exposing my fear and my insecurity and making me feel small.

"I just... fuck, E," I tell him, wrapping my other hand around his waist, fighting to pull him closer. I manage to bring his body closer to mine, but he holds himself rigidly and refuses to lean into me. "Edward, I'm just so fucking scared that I'm gonna lose you. That if you're not sure that you're gay, you're not sure about me... and I'm gonna lose you."

"Jake, if I said to you right now 'I suddenly don't find women attractive anymore, ever, I'm one hundred percent gay,' it's still no fucking guarantee that we'll be happy forever. You're not being logical. If I swear off girls, what's to say I won't leave you for another guy?" he asks, pulling away, twisting out of my grasp. The thought makes me sick to my stomach. Edward leaving me for a girl is bad enough, but the idea of him with another guy? I couldn't take it.

"Maybe I'm just... afraid of you leaving me either way," I tell him. Edward turns, walks back to his bed, and sits at the head of it, leaning against his headboard. I follow him, hoping he won't turn me away, and sit at the edge of the mattress, facing him.

"What have I done to make you think I'm leaving? Because this is the longest relationship I've ever had, and I thought it was going pretty fucking well. I don't know where all this doubt is coming from," he says, sounding defeated.

I suck in a deep breath, trying to relieve some of the tension in my body. I scoot a little closer to Edward and wrap my hand around his ankle under his soft, brown khakis, needing some kind of connection with him.

"At the farmer's market," I tell him, and he turns his head towards the window, breaking eye contact. "You seemed... you were so angry, and I thought you were ashamed, and I guess it felt like... it felt inevitable then, that you would leave because you couldn't come to terms with being gay."

Edward swallows, and I can see one single tear fall from his eye. He wipes it away roughly, quickly, before he speaks.

"I was ashamed of how I reacted. How out of control I was. Yeah, I guess I was embarrassed when he called us... when he said what he said. I just reacted without thinking, and then I felt guilty for being embarrassed," he admits. "Jake... all of this... trying to figure out who I am and how to like, define myself... it's been really fucking hard for me. And I felt like... I felt like I couldn't ask you for help, because it would make you doubt me."

He looks so hurt, so fucking sad right now, and I know it's because I've proved him right. He's been doubting himself, struggling to find his way, and I've just made it worse.

"I just don't know how we have a future," I tell him honestly. "If you're always going to be thinking about what you're missing out on, you know?"

"But that's the thing, baby," he tells me, leaning towards me. "I'm not thinking about what I'm missing. I'm not missing anything. You meet all of my needs, every single fucking one. I mean, yeah, I got a little turned on by watching that stupid video, but I didn't like, jerk off to it in secret or run out to fuck some girl. I came to you."

"You weren't hard, after. You lost it while you were blowing me," I challenge him, embarrassed to admit that I'd noticed, that it hurt my pride. He laughs, a low chuckle, and reaches out to wrap his hand around mine, so we're both clinging to his ankle.

"Jake, notice anything different about what I'm wearing?" he says, and I look him up and down. Brown pants, t-shirt from a concert we went to two years ago. I figured he'd changed out of his old jeans to go to the store.

"I came while I was sucking your dick," he says, his ears and his cheeks filling with color as he admits it. "Just from... from feeling you and watching you."

"You did?" I ask, incredulous. He nods, blushing harder, and looks down at his hand covering mine.

"You always... you just have this effect on me," he says. "You drive me crazy. And it's not going away, Jacob. I need you to trust me," he pleads.

"I do trust you," I interrupt.

"No, you don't. You don't trust me to choose you. But I've always chosen you, Jake. I'm not gonna stop now," he insists. "Look, I just... I can't honestly go out and proclaim to the world that I'm gay. Maybe someday I will, but I don't know for sure. And I can't promise that I won't ever look at a girl and think that she's hot. But fuck, you can't say that you're never gonna look at some other guy, right?"

I shrug, unable to deny his logic.

"Do I... do I make you happy?" he asks, quiet and tentative. "Do you still want me?" His uncertainty hurts, makes me realize how much I've fucked this up. As much as I've been feeling insecure, Edward's been going through the same questions, but it must be worse for him. I've been out since high school, and I knew I was gay for a long time before that. But for Edward to be questioning his identity, the sense of self that he'd been building for his whole life, and worrying about my reaction at the same time... it must have been impossibly hard, and I've only been concerned with myself.

"Of course, baby," I tell him, sitting up on my knees. I reach for him, wrap my arms around his shoulders and hug him hard. "I always want you. You make me so happy, when I'm not being an idiot."

Edward folds his legs underneath him and rises up on his knees, too, so he can hug me back. We hold each other, kneeling together on the bed, and he whispers that he loves me.

"I love you, too," I tell him, turning my head to kiss him.

But he ducks his head and pulls away from my lips. Because he's not done talking yet.

"I need... Jake, I need to know that you choose me over the label. You're more important to me than being straight, or gay, or whatever. You're more important to me than any woman or man could ever be. I need to know if you're okay with that. I need you to choose me," he pleads.

I don't even have to think about it. I know that if we can talk about this and get through it, that we can talk about anything. That what I have with Edward means more to me than what anyone else thinks.

"I want you. I choose you. You're my person, too," I tell him, holding him impossibly closer. I try to kiss him again, but he tilts his head back, still avoiding me.

"And you have to promise me that you'll talk to me or something if you get worried about shit instead of trying to push me away," he says, squeezing me tightly.

"I promise," I tell him. "And you promise to come talk to me if you're feeling confused or embarrassed or whatever, and we'll talk about that shit, too."

"I will," he says, dropping his head, burying his face in my neck. "Jake, remember when we started fooling around? You told me to let go of what I thought was the "manly" thing to do and just do what feels good? I think that's what we need to do."

"Fool around?" I ask, and I can feel the apple of his cheek brush my skin when he smiles against me.

"I just mean that we should do what feels right to us and not think about whether it's straight or gay. We can just be... us," he says, rubbing small circles on my lower back. It's awkward, kneeling with him like this, so I flop down onto the bed and pull him down with me. I land on my back, with Edward held tightly against my side.

"I think that sounds great, baby, but I have to tell you that it won't be easy. People are gonna try to put you in one box or the other, and you'll be forced to figure out what you want to call yourself. To friends, to family, to new people we meet," I tell him, honestly. "And my friends are gonna want to know why my boyfriend has a subscription to Playboy."

He laughs a little, resting his chin on my chest so he can look up into my eyes. "It really does have good articles, I swear," he says. "But things will be okay, right? If we talk about it? And try to have a sense of humor about shit?"

"Yeah, I think it'll be okay," I say. I'm answering his question, but I think I'm reassuring myself, too. That despite all my worrying, all my fucking insecurity, I really can make this relationship work. Because it's Edward. My best friend, my boyfriend, the one person who has always supported me. I'm overwhelmed with the need to tell him that I love him in a million different ways, starting with one.

"Can I fucking kiss you now?" I ask, tangling my fingers in the hair at the back of his head.

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkle all adorably, and he leans up to brush his lips against mine. "My Jacob," he whispers, just before pressing his lips more firmly to mine. The kiss is long and deep, sweet and tender, but with an undeniable spark of passion and the promise of something more.


	11. Epilogue: Seven Years Later

Seven Years Later...

I'm driving too fast, weaving through traffic, trying to get to the restaurant on time.

The little pink bag is wobbling on the seat beside me, taunting me and my nerves. I think I'd be shaking a little bit too if my hands weren't wrapped tightly around the steering wheel of my new Jetta.

I left the present at home, and had to drive all the way back to pick it up. I'm nervous enough about today, the last thing I want to do is walk in late.

When I get there, finally, I jump out of the car. I'm halfway to the front door before I realize my hands are fucking empty, and I have to walk back to the parking lot to get the little gift bag. I breathe deeply and take a second to steel my nerves.

Gift bag in hand, I make my way back to the restaurant. It's closed to the public, open only for the private party. A baby shower.

I round the corner and look through the large plate glass windows lining the sidewalk. I can see the tables set with party favors and festive little decorations, a huge white cake in the corner, and two servers filling up goblets with ice water.

And I see Edward.

He looks... amazing. He's wearing dark gray trousers and a royal blue sweater. I watch his muscled forearm appear as he pushes the sleeves of his sweater up. I watch as he twists the band on his left ring finger, a nervous habit. I watch as he lays his hands so carefully, so reverently on Leah's belly.

He bends over slightly, grinning at the baby bump.

He looks happy. The happiest I've ever seen him. He looks... like he has everything he could ever want.

My heart swells with emotion, almost too much for me to bear, and I have to look away.

I take another deep breath and make my way to the entrance, ignoring the signs telling me it's closed. I push the door open and walk in, ducking out of the way as a server passes by with a tray full of little sandwiches.

"Excuse me," I tell him, flattening myself against the wall. Edward looks up when he hears my voice, and his eyes meet mine. His eyes light up and his smile stretches even wider.

"Jake!" he says, calling to me, as if I haven't seen him. As if my eyes don't seek him out first in every room I enter.

I wave with my right hand, the one holding the little gift bag, and he rolls his eyes at me. Leah looks up then, knocking Edward's hands away from her belly.

"Jacob, your baby daddy will not leave me alone," she whines, crossing her arms over her chest and resting them on her protruding stomach.

"Sorry, Leah," I tell her, setting the gift bag gently on the table behind her. I duck down to kiss her cheek before circling around her to pull Edward into my arms. "I should've warned you that he was handsy," I tease, tightening my grip on him and leaning in for a hello kiss.

"I'll show you handsy," he growls, wrapping both arms around my waist. The tone of his voice pushes the kiss from hello to hell yes a little too quickly, and I lose myself in him. He shaved just before we left the house this morning, and I can still smell the minty aftershave he used.

Leah has to break us apart.

"Jesus, get a room, fuckers," she says, punching me in the arm.

"C'mon, Leah, language. The baby can hear you, you know," I remind her. She shrugs and turns away from us, snapping her fingers at a server passing by with another tray of hors d'oeuvres.

"Look, if you guys wanted a cursing-free pregnancy, you should've asked little Suzie Sunshine to be your surrogate," she informs us, gathering up a few mini quiches and stacking them on a napkin in her hand.

Alice is here, somewhere, buzzing around and getting everything set for the party-she manages this restaurant and offered to throw the shower for us. She and Jasper have become great friends to both of us, but they've been busy trying to have a child of their own.

When Edward and I decided to have a kid, we talked about a dozen different options. Public adoptions, private adoptions, surrogates, egg donors... the different ways to make a family are kind of dizzying.

In the end, we decided that we want what a lot of traditional straight couples want; a kid that looks a little bit like each of us.

My sister Rebecca agreed to donate an egg; that way we could fertilize it with Edward's sperm and get a reasonably close genetic mash-up of the two of us. Rebecca offered to carry the baby, too, but she lived in Hawaii; moving wasn't feasible for either of us, and we didn't like the idea of being so far away from her while she was pregnant.

We were discussing our dilemma after Thanksgiving dinner at my aunt's house two years ago when a tipsy Leah graciously offered to be our surrogate. Her actual words were something like, "You two can put that kid in me if you want."

Her drunken offer at Thanksgiving didn't inspire a lot of confidence, but she called us a week later and expressed a sincere desire to help. She'd been my closest cousin growing up, and we'd always had each others' backs.

It has been long road of discussing, negotiating, wrestling with insurance, finding the right doctor, and waiting patiently for test results.

But it did happen. It's real. We're gonna have a little baby girl in two months, one who's a little bit Edward and a little bit me. Leah's done an amazing job of keeping her safe and helping her grow. As much as she grumbles and complains, I know she's been extremely careful and conscientious, even when it comes to Edward's obsession with organic food.

"You ready for this?" Edward asks, lacing his fingers through mine. I survey the room, watching as Alice and her staff finish up the last-minute details. Leah wanders off in search of more mini quiche, and I can spot Edward's parents making their way up the sidewalk. Carlisle's arms are heavily laden with gift bags and Esme's carrying a ridiculously huge package that looks like... like a cake, made entirely out of diapers. Jesus.

"I guess I'd better be, huh? Looks like Nana and Pop-Pop cleaned out Babies R Us," I tease him, using the pet names his parents had decided on months ago.

"Shut up and enjoy it," he says, elbowing me in the side. "I can't believe you forgot Leah's present!" he adds, nodding at the little pink bag I'd left at home.

"I can't believe I didn't get a speeding ticket trying to get back here in time," I tell him.

"You really think she'll accept it?" he asks.

"Either she'll feel pressured from everyone watching her and accept it easily, or she'll throw a huge fucking fit and cause a scene in the middle of our shower. Either way, she's not driving that piece of shit back and forth to the rez anymore," I promise.

Leah had refused any sort of compensation for her efforts; she let us pay her medical bills and buy her some maternity clothes, but that's about it. The car she drives, though-an old Chevy Cavalier-is definitely on its last legs.

I wanted to buy her a brand new car, but Edward talked me out of that plan. He knew she'd flip out if we did that. So I bought a new Jetta and worked on my old car, replacing the tires and the brakes. It wasn't brand new, but it was still about ten years newer than her Cavalier. The little pink gift bag held the keys, a picture of the car, and a note begging Leah to just shut up and take the gift.

"My boys!" Esme squeals, dropping the ridiculous-looking diaper cake on the table next to us. "Nana's here!" she pulls us both into a hug, ruffles Edward's hair and kisses my cheek.

"Hi, Esme," I greet her, grinning at Carlisle as he rolls her eyes behind her back. Edward unloads the gift bags from his arms, lining them up on the table.

"Where is she?" Esme demands, walking off to find Leah. The two women have formed an unusual friendship, spending hours together shopping and having a "ladies' lunch" every time Leah visits us in Seattle.

"Take a deep breath, son. No matter how many men you invited, I'll tell you this: women own baby showers. Get ready," Carlisle says, slapping Edward on the back. Edward reaches out for my hand again and grins as he wraps his fingers around mine.

"I'm ready," Edward says.

"Done," I announce, flopping down onto our bed. Edward is in his boxers, leaning back against the pillows, reading What to Expect for the First Year for the zillionth time.

He closes the book, drops it on his nightstand, and rolls over onto his side to face me. "Are you satisfied now?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

He wanted to give up on putting away the shower gifts an hour ago, rationalizing that we still have two months before the baby comes.

"Yes, yes I am. Come on, you know that we would've put it off-if we didn't do it today, we would've waited 'til the last minute, and then we would've run out of time. The baby would come home and like, trip over all the glittery pink bags on the floor in her bedroom," I argue.

"She's gonna trip? You think she's gonna walk home?" he teases.

"Yeah, of course. Newborns can walk, right?" I ask, feigning ignorance. "I mean, I've only read that book once, so I probably don't remember. Hold on, let me check." I lean over him, crushing his chest to the bed with mine, and grab the baby book.

"Get off me!" he says, laughing and pushing roughly at my shoulder.

"Hold on! I'm looking it up. Do you think it would be under W for walking? Or E, for Edward's an idiot?" I tease, flipping through the index as he grumbles and squirms underneath me.

Edward manages to get a hand free and pluck the book from my grasp, dropping it back on his nightstand.

"How about G for get the fuck off me?" he says, flipping me over onto my back. He throws one leg over mine and straddles me, leaning forward to press both of my forearms into the bed.

"Truce?" I ask, bucking my hips up lightly against his. He's feeling playful, and playful Edward usually leads to awesome sex.

"Truce," he says, leaning down to kiss me. I think he intends for it to be a sweet kiss, a chaste one, but I capture his lips with mine and tilt my head up for more. It gets hot pretty quickly, and Edward pushes me down further into the bed, aligning us so he can grind his hardening cock against mine.

"That's some fucking truce," he growls, pulling away to kiss down my jaw. He kisses and nips at my neck, scraping his teeth over my Adam's apple before kissing down to the collar of my t-shirt.

"Take it off," I beg him, struggling to free my arms from his grip.

"No," he says, kissing my lips again before pulling away abruptly and flopping down onto the bed beside me. "You do it. Get up and strip for me, do it slowly," he commands.

"Seriously?" I ask, trying not to laugh at his request.

"Yeah, come on. Strip for me," he prods, tugging at my t-shirt. It's a silly request, and I feel stupid doing it, but I roll off the side of the bed anyway. I turn my back to him and cross my arms, grip the hem of my t-shirt, and slide it slowly up my torso.

I do it because even if it makes me feel a little silly, I love that I can turn him on like this. I do it because everything we do together is perfect, even the silly stuff, the awkward stuff, the mortifying moments that every sexually adventurous couple has to deal with at some point.

I do it because we promised each other seven years ago that we would always do what feels good, what feels right for us.

I tease him, lifting my t-shirt up a little and then dropping it again. I twist my neck so I can watch him, and let him see me rub the outline of my hard-on through my jeans.

"You look fucking hot," he tells me, his own hand snaking down inside his boxers.

"Yeah?" I ask, flicking open the buttons at my fly.

"Fuck, Jake," he says. I turn my back to him again, lifting up my t-shirt. I pull it up and over my head, ball it up, and toss it over my shoulder. I sneak a glance back at Edward just in time to see it hit him in the face, and I can't help but laugh.

"Alright, stop teasing. Come here," he demands, tossing my shirt to the floor.

"I thought you wanted me to tease you, baby?" I ask. I push my jeans down over my hips, revealing the tight black boxer briefs that Edward loves to see me in. His groan tells me that he's enjoying this, even if he's impatient now.

I bend over slowly to push my jeans down my legs, lifting one foot at a time to tug them off over my feet. He's so easy to tease-just a little wiggle of my ass and he's up off the bed, flying over to me, pressing his cock against me.

"You like it, don't you?" he asks, wrapping one arm around my waist to pull me upright. His palm skates over my abs, my chest, and up to my shoulder so he can hold me tightly against him. "Showing off for me?"

"I like turning you on," I tell him, pushing back against his erection. "How do you want me?" I ask, reaching up behind me to wrap an arm around his neck. I pull his face to mine so I can plant a rough, deep kiss on his lips, giving him a clue about what I want.

"Come here, bend over," he says, turning us around to face the bed. He walks me forward a few steps and then pushes me down so my hands are flat on the mattress. Slowly, he trails kisses down the back of my neck, my shoulders, my spine, until he gets to the waistband of my underwear. He hooks his fingers in the elastic and pulls them down slowly, inch by inch, covering the cheeks of my ass with little kisses.

Edward's on his knees, behind me, reaching between my legs to tug at my already throbbing cock. He strokes it a few times but leaves me wanting, pulling his hands away all too soon. I can't help but whine when I feel him move away from me.

"Just getting lube, baby," he says, moving the bedside table to pull out supplies. When he returns to me he drops to his knees again and nuzzles his face against my thigh. His slick fingers drag up and down between my cheeks, quickly zeroing in on where I need him.

"Faster," I beg him, pushing back against his hand as he prepares me. "C'mon, I need you."

He pushes another finger inside and I whimper. The stretch is familiar; it's painful but promising, the good kind of hurt that sparks all the right nerve endings in my body. His soft, tender kisses over my hips and thighs contrast with the rough movements of his fingers. No matter how playful, rough, or downright kinky Edward gets, he always keeps me grounded with affectionate little gestures.

"Ready?" he asks, biting playfully at my ass cheek.

"Fuck, yeah," I groan, wincing as his fingers slip out. He stands up, grips my hip, and walks me forward a little.

"Here, put your leg up," he demands, patting the bed in front of me. I lift one leg up and rest my knee on the mattress, opening myself more to him. He strokes my hips, my sides, my back, making me wait. I can feel his cock pressed up against me, sliding through the wetness he's left between my cheeks, and I whine in frustration.

"I told you I was ready, baby," I tell him, pushing back against him. He chuckles and lifts one hand from my body, using it to hold his cock steady as he pushes in slowly, and gently. Even though we've done this a thousand times, even though he prepares me thoroughly, he's still always careful at first.

"God, you're so good, you feel so fucking good," I tell him, panting as he works himself inside. He gets ahead of himself, pushes a little too hard, and I hiss at the sudden intensity.

"Okay, it's okay, sorry," he says, rubbing small circles over the small of my back.

"I'm alright, just a little slower," I tell him, twisting my neck to look back at him. He bends down low to kiss me, holding his cock steady. "Really, babe, keep going," I tell him, wiggling my ass playfully so he knows I'm okay.

He pulls out slowly and drizzles some more lube where we're joined before pushing back in. It's so much better the second time, when my body starts remembering that it actually loves this push and pull. When he finds a rhythm and starts fucking me, my head falls between my arms as I relax and let the sensation take over.

"Jesus, Jake, you're always so fucking warm," he says, his palm flat against my back, between my shoulder blades. He curls his fingers and scratches my skin lightly with his blunt fingernails. I arch my back and he chuckles, asking, "That feel good, baby?"

"So good, so good," I tell him.

"Can I go faster?" he asks, reaching up to curl his fingers around my shoulder. I'm so relaxed now, my body accepting him easily, that my answer is immediate.

"Yes!" I cry, pushing back against him. He laughs, inches us forward on the bed, and props his knee up behind mine for leverage. When he starts fucking me earnestly, I moan and curse and thrash, letting him see how much I love it.

"Fuck me harder, Edward, please," I beg, turning my head to brush my lips against his knuckles.

"Jake, if you talk dirty to me, I'm gonna cum too fast," he pants, digging his fingers into my skin as he complies with my request. That sounds like a fucking challenge to me, and I'm dying to see him lose control.

"I can't help it, baby, I need your cock. I need you to fuck me hard like this, to fill me up," I tell him, gasping for breath as he fucks me relentlessly. "I don't care if you cum too fast. I want it. I want you to cum for me, to cum inside me."

"Fuck, Jake!" he says, slamming into me, grunting as he cums. "Fucking. Cumming."

I drop my head to the bedspread and smile, loving the low, growly tone his voice takes on when he's having a mind-blowing orgasm. I let him fuck me through it, not complaining when he rests against my body while he recovers.

When he pulls away, though, I'm empty and hard and so fucking desperate to get off that I can't stop myself from groaning.

"C'mere, baby," he says, dragging me backwards by my hips. He backs me up until I'm bent over the bed again, with both feet on the floor. I look down and watch Edward sit down, settling on the floor with his back to the bed and his head between my legs. He tilts his head back and smiles at me, winking before he turns his attention to my cock.

I open my mouth to provide some more verbal encouragement, but I can't think of any words. Edward is working me expertly, flicking his tongue against the tip of my cock before he slides it deeper into his mouth.

I know I'm not gonna last when his arm wraps around my thigh and his fingers push inside me again. He coordinates their movements with the bobbing of his head, and it's a matter of seconds before I'm a panting, moaning mess, bucking my hips into his face and cumming down his throat.

When I'm spent, Edward turns his head and lets my cock fall from his lips. I roll to the side, panting and coming down, and Edward climbs up next to me.

"Damn, Cullen," I tell him, reaching over to wipe a drop of cum from his bottom lip. He laughs and kisses the tip of my thumb.

"Love you," he says, lacing his fingers through mine.

"Love you too," I tell him, pulling his hand close and pressing it flat against my heart. "Always."


	12. Post-Epilogue: Not Sleeping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we come to the 9,000 outtakes I wrote because I couldn't quit writing about these boys...

"I'll go," Edward mumbles, untangling his legs from mine. He starts to roll away from my side of the bed, where he's been sleeping with his chest pressed against my back.

"No, 'smy turn," I mumble, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. "Go back to sleep." He doesn't argue, just closes his eyes and clutches my pillow to his chest. I sigh, knowing I'll have to wrestle it away from him when I come back.

I stumble down the hall to her room, open the door, and switch on the dim nightlight.

"Shhhh, Gracie girl, shhh," I whisper, making my way over to her crib. She's beautiful, a little bit Black (tufts of straight, black hair cover her little head) and a little but Cullen (her baby blue eyes are getting greener evey day). Her tiny, perfect little face is twisted in anger as she wails, hungry and pissed off that we haven't managed to figure out how to get the bottle in her mouth within five seconds of her waking up. I slip one hand under her neck and the other under her bottom, lift her up, and cradle her in my left arm.

"Shhh, let's not keep Daddy awake," I tell her, stroking her cheek gently with my finger. She turns her head, her lips pursed and searching, and I let her latch onto my knuckle while I walk her down to the kitchen. It gets tricky, though, when I have to make her bottle; I shift her to my shoulder so I can use my hands, but she starts fussing immediately.

"Gracie is the quietest girl," I sing, making up some nonsense lyrics to keep her calm. "Gracie likes to let her Daddy sleep, oh yes she does, and she loves to snuggle while Papa makes her bottle." I pour the special nursery water Edward buys into the bottle, mix in some formula, and set it on the stove to warm. While it's heating up, I distract her with more silly songs and let her suck on my finger some more. By the time the bottle's ready, my tricks are failing and she's crying again.

I decide to feed her in the living room, thinking maybe Edward will sleep through her cries if we're far enough away. We sit on the couch and I hold her close to my chest, getting comfortable before I hold the bottle to her lips. She won't stop crying long enough to latch on, so I give up after a few tries and hold her up to my shoulder again. I stand up and make a few laps around the living room, doing the bouncy walk she likes, and wait for her to quiet down.

The thing is, as soon as I sit down again, she starts wailing. I check her diaper and it's dry; she doesn't feel like she has a fever or anything, so I have no idea why she isn't eating. I try the bouncy walk again, combine it with another song, and wait until she's completely settled to try the bottle again. I'm sure it's gonna work.

It doesn't. The second my ass hits the couch, she's crying again.

"Honey, I don't know what you want," I sing-song, rocking her back and forth, hoping she'll calm down this way.

"Lemme try," Edward says, shuffling around the corner. He's all sleepy and rumpled, his hair messy and sticking up in all different directions. He's really fucking cute.

I hand over the baby without question. At first I would worry when she preferred Edward to me, thinking it must be some deep-down acknowledgement on her part that he was her biological father. After our first month together, though, I've learned that there are times when our daughter prefers me, too. That she loves us both, needs us both.

"Baby girl, are you giving Papa a hard time?" he asks, ducking down to kiss her forehead. He walks her around the room, bouncing her just like I did, and then reaches out for her bottle. I hand it to him and watch as he offers it to her, still swaying gently. She takes it immediately, latching on and drinking like a champ.

"Seriously?" I ask, annoyed that I didn't think of that. "That's all it took? She loves you more."

"Hmmm, she wasn't too fond of me when I tried to give her a bath last night," Edward reminds me.

"Oh, yeah, she loved me more then," I tease. I lean back against the corner of the couch and make space for Edward to sit in front of me. "C'mere."

"You can go back to bed," he offers, but I shake my head no. It's hard for me to fall asleep without him anymore. He sits down and leans back against my chest, his head lolling against my shoulder.

"She's pretty cute, isn't she?" I ask, watching her little eyelids flutter as she drinks.

"Yeah," Edward sighs sleepily. "I think we should keep her."

"Mmm, me too," I agree, kissing the curve of his neck. "I might keep you around, too. Since you're so good with the baby and all."

"Oh yeah?" he teases. "That's so kind of you. I can cook, too, don't forget that."

"You are a man of many talents," I concede. "I guess I'll keep the both of you, then."

Edward turns his head and presses his lips softly to mine. "Yeah, I suppose I'll keep you, too," he says, his lips twitching up into a smile. I wrap one arm around his waist, resting it just under his, helping to support the slight weight of our baby girl while I stroke her cheek with my free hand.

Even though it's two in the morning, even though I haven't had a full night's sleep in over a month, I've never been happier than I am right now. This has to be athe best moment of my life so far-sitting here, in the quiet, dark living room, with my family in my arms.


	13. Extra: An Alternate Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an alternate ending, what could have happened to Edward and Jake. I feel like it's still a happy ending, just not in a traditional "happy ever after" type way. I got a lot of negative comments about it when I first posted it, but I still like it. :)

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Edward says, sliding into the booth across from me. He looks good, smiling and happy, wearing a new suit.

"No problem," I assure him, handing him a menu. He skims it quickly, his fingers tapping nervously on the plastic cover.

"What are you getting? The sandwich thing with the sweet potato fries?" he asks, peering over the top of the menu at me.

"You know it," I answer with a grin. He does know me, through and through.

As soon as he closes the menu, the waitress is over to take our order. We make small talk until she returns with a second glass of iced tea and sets it in front of Edward. When she walks away, he smiles shyly, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a box.

A tiny, royal blue, velvet-covered box.

"Shit, Edward," I say, my eyes locked on the box as he slides it across the table. "Is that...?"

"Yeah," he says, a wide grin on his face. "Open it."

I scoop the box up in my hand and flip open the lid.

"Wow, E, it's... it's perfect," I tell him, staring down at the ring. "It's just perfect."

"Are you sure?" he says, biting his bottom lip. He looks up at me, a lock of bronze hair falling over his forehead.

There was a time when I would've reached across the table and brushed the hair out of his face. A time when his nervous smile would have made me blush and stammer and think dirty thoughts.

"I'm sure," I tell him, snapping the box closed. "She's gonna love it."

 

It's taken us a long time to get here. We spent nearly a year together as lovers, trying to make it work. I loved Edward with all my heart, and I know that he loved me, too.

Sometimes, though ... love isn't enough.

Edward was never able to accept the idea of being gay, of making his life with a man. He told his family about us, but never once identified himself as gay. It was always "I'm with Jake," or "It's about the person, not the gender." I understood his fear at first, but eventually it started to make me feel … temporary.

It never got easier for him to be out with me in public, either. He was always nervous, always on edge. Eventually we stopped going out, spending most of our evenings holed up in our apartment. I had spent most of my life out and proud, never shying away from going out in public and living my life, and I started to resent Edward for not wanting to be out with me.

It was almost a year after we started fooling around, right after Christmas, when everything went to hell.

His friend Bella had a New Year's Eve party, and begged us to come. Edward resisted, but eventually gave in to her whining. We went to the party and Edward immediately left me, hovering around the keg to talk to some girls we knew from college. They were his friends, not mine, so I didn't know many people there-I spent most of the night on Bella's couch watching Ryan Seacrest on TV.

When midnight approached, the crowd started to gather in the living room to watch the ball drop. I abandoned my spot on the couch so I could seek out Edward, so I could be with him at the start of the New Year. I didn't expect him to kiss me there, not in front of everyone, but I was hoping we could slip away somewhere quiet.

I looked in the kitchen, the dining room, even on the patio-no Edward. I jogged up the stairs to the second floor, peeking in open doorways. I was just about to give up when I heard a toilet flush and water running. I lingered outside that door until it opened, and I was face-to-face with Edward.

"Hey," I said, smiling. No one else was around, so I reached out to pull him into my arms.

"Is it midnight yet?" he asked, stiff and nervous in my arms.

"Almost," I answered. "Listen." The crowd downstairs was counting down from twenty.

"We'd better get down there," he said, pulling away from me.

"No, stay with me," I pleaded, tugging at his wrist. "Stay up here with me. I want a kiss at midnight, Edward."

"Jake..." he said, shaking his head slowly.

Ten.

Nine.

"I can't," he whispered.

Eight.

Seven.

"Why not?" I was hurt and angry. He was uncomfortable being affectionate in public, that I understood-but we were alone, in a dark, quiet hallway.

Six.

Five.

"Edward?" I prompted, stepping closer.

Four.

Three.

"Because they'll know!" he spit out. "They'll notice that we're both missing!"

Two.

One.

The crowd downstairs cheered, "Happy New Year!" and the sounds of Auld Lang Syne filled the house. We were silent, staring each other down in that upstairs hallway. Edward's eyes were wide, his whole body tense, and I had a death grip on his wrist. I waited, I gave him a minute to come to his senses, to get over his irrational fear and kiss me, but he just fucking stood there. I dropped his wrist when I heard giggling, someone coming up the stairs.

"Hey Edward," some blonde girl giggled. She had a big hulking Italian guy pawing all over her, kissing her neck as they pushed past us. They disappeared into one of the empty bedrooms and Edward and I flinched at the thump that followed-undoubtedly him pushing her up against the door.

"That will never be us, will it?" I asked him, jerking my head towards the closed door. Making out at a party, ringing in the New Year together, slipping off to a spare room to fool around.

Edward didn't answer.

I didn't need him to. I already knew.

I pushed past him and ran down the stairs, shoving people aside. I needed to go somewhere, anywhere. To get out of there. I left Edward at the party, knowing he could get a ride or crash at Bella's. I drove straight home, climbed into my bed-we'd been sharing Edward's for months, and my sheets felt cold and stiff-and cried.

He didn't come home until the next morning. His eyes were red, too, but I couldn't tell if it was from crying or just general sleep deprivation. I was at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of Cheerios, and he came to sit down next to me.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," I replied.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?" I asked. I was scared shitless, my heart pounding, because I knew it was a make or break moment for us. I loved Edward, but I was prepared to walk away. I couldn't live like that anymore.

"For making you go to the party. We should've just stayed home," he mumbled, looking down at the edge of the table. His words stung, and they confirmed what I already knew in my heart. He wasn't sorry for rejecting me, for not kissing me, for refusing to be all in with me. He was sorry we'd gone out in public at all.

"Edward …" the speech I'd practiced over and over again during the night suddenly seemed wrong. I'd planned to yell and scream and eviscerate him, make him feel as bad as I felt, but I couldn't do it. The whole situation was just too … sad.

"Edward, I can't do this anymore," I said, my voice breaking with emotion. "I just can't be with you like this. I'm miserable."

His eyes filled with tears and he shook his head, objecting.

"I can fix it," he said, angrily wiping away a tear that streamed down his cheek.

"No, you can't," I argued. "You just … you're not gay. You'll never be gay. You'll never be comfortable being with me. I love you, and I know you love me, but this … it's just not going to work."

"Maybe I can go to like, therapy or something," he suggested. "I'm sorry. I can try to … to adjust."

"It's been a year, babe. A whole year of us being together and you still can't kiss me in public? It's just not gonna happen," I told him, not even bothering to wipe away the tears from my face. "We tried, Edward, we really did. It's not … it's not working for me. I'm not happy," I confessed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse. He put his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

"I'm sorry, too."

 

It's been five years since our breakup.

It was harder on Edward than it was on me.

He moved out that next weekend and lived with Jasper and Alice for a while, crashing on their couch. He would come by during the week while I was at work to pick up his mail. I didn't see him for almost a month, although he texted me to ask me a few questions about the lease and the rent.

"Are you okay?" I texted him, after one exchange about Edward picking up his furniture. He'd rented an apartment.

"Yeah," he replied. And then, a few minutes later:

"Not really."

"I will be, eventually."

He and Jasper showed up the next week to load up his furniture and a few boxes of stuff from his bedroom. I left as soon as they got there-I was planning on helping them, but I just couldn't do it. It was too hard, too painful to see him. When I came home a few hours later, there was an empty space where his recliner used to sit. His key was on the coffee table, sitting on top of a napkin with Edward's messy handwriting on it.

Jake-

I'm sorry. I'll never stop feeling guilty for fucking this up. I don't want to lose my best friend. Call me when you're ready.

-E

It took the better part of a year before I was ready.

I spent the first few months in pain, curled up into a ball most nights, crying my eyes out. Seth was a lifesaver, dragging me out of my apartment at least once a week to work out, go to a concert, do something fun. I refused to go to any of our favorite clubs with him, though. I told him I didn't feel up to meeting anyone yet, which was mostly true. I didn't tell him about my secret fear that I would find Edward there with some new man.

That was my absolute worst fear. That Edward would find a man who could make him happy-who could convince him to come out, to live openly. That I just wasn't enough.

That's mostly why I didn't call him. I was afraid he'd say "I met someone..." and that I wouldn't be able to hide my devastation.

Right before Christmas, a package arrived for Edward. I considered sending it back, but I worried that he wouldn't get it in time for Christmas. I didn't know his new address and I couldn't find it online, so I knew I had to suck it up and call. I couldn't avoid it any more.

He sounded happy to hear from me.

He came over the next evening to pick up the package. I invited him in, to be polite, and offered him a beer.

It was really fucking awkward.

He only stayed for twenty minutes, and mostly we talked about our respective jobs and our mutual friends. When he'd drained his beer, I walked into the kitchen to grab the package I'd been keeping for him.

"Here you go," I said, handing it over. But Edward was distracted, focused on the box of Twinkies sitting on my kitchen counter.

"Oh Jake," he said, sighing heavily. "Have I taught you nothing?"

I grinned, remembering the day I bought those-how I skimmed the ingredient list and pictured Edward freaking out over all the processed sugar and chemicals.

"I eat vegetables sometimes," I said, shrugging my shoulders.

We had a moment there-brief, but real-where we were just ourselves. Where we didn't feel awkward and uncomfortable. It gave me hope.

After that, we rebuilt our friendship slowly. I think we both knew it would never be the same-we both carried a little bit of hurt and regret over the way our relationship ended-but we couldn't deny the bond we had.

We're still not as close as we used to be, as we were before, but we see each other at least once a week now. We have lunch together every Wednesday, and hang out a lot on the weekends. He has a girlfriend now, Emily, and they've been together for almost three years.

And I have Peter, the love of my life.

We met two years ago, at the grocery store of all places. He asked me if I knew the difference between the Organic Bartlett Pears and the Green Anjou. Of course I did, thanks to Edward-the irony did not escape me-and we spent a few minutes laughing together in the produce section. I offered to make him dinner, and we were pretty much inseparable from that moment on.

Peter knows about my past with Edward-so does Emily. Somehow we both found partners cool enough to be understanding about our friendship. We've had a lot of double dates over the years and even joked about buying houses in the same neighborhood so our kids could grow up together someday.

That was mostly theoretical though, until now.

"You really think she'll like it?" Edward asks, taking the box back from me. He opens it quickly to examine the delicate, beautiful diamond ring.

"Edward, you could wrap a fucking rubber band around that finger and she'd say yes," I tease. "She's gonna love it, trust me."

"Okay," he says, tucking the ring back into his jacket pocket. "Now I just have to figure out when to ask her."

"Are you gonna make a big production out of it?" I ask, unrolling the napkin around my silverware.

"Nah, that's not really Emily's style, you know?" he says. "I think maybe I'll rent a boat or something, take her out on the sound and do it there."

"That sounds nice, E. She'll like that," I tell him honestly.

"What about you and Pete? Think you're gonna get hitched anytime soon?" he asks. The waitress appears then, and I wait for her to leave the food before I answer.

"When it's legal," I tell him, shrugging my shoulders. "Not gonna do it before then. I know he's it for me, I'm not in any hurry."

Edward smiles, and I know he's genuinely happy for me. I push my plate over to his side of the table, offering him some of my sweet potato fries, and he grabs a few. We eat in silence for a few minutes, commenting only on how good the food is.

"Hey Jake?" Edward asks, putting down his burger.

"Hmm?" I ask, still shoveling food into my mouth.

"If she says yes … will you be my best man? Can I ask you to do that?" he asks, drumming his fingers against the table nervously. I only pause for a second, distracted by the thought that maybe it would be weird to stand up for my ex at his wedding.

But Edward isn't just my ex. He's my best friend-the person I trust most in the world, the person who knows me best. I know he feels the same way about me, too. If there's one thing I know for sure after everything that's happened, it's that my friendship with Edward is indestructible. I have no regrets as far as our relationship is concerned-it led us both to where we are now. We're both happy, loved, and successful. We both have amazing partners, and we still have each other.

"Edward," I tell him, locking my eyes with his, "I'd be honored."


	14. Outtake: Edward's First BJ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from Edward's POV.

It's not that I don't want to do it. I see his cock in front of me—hard and thick and so fucking solid and sexy—and I can picture myself doing it. Kissing up his thigh, dragging my lips up his shaft and wrapping them around the head of his dick.

I'm not a selfish asshole, either. I know it's not cool to let Jake go down on me without ever returning the favor. I know that if there's some grand, life-long sexual scorecard, I'm failing.

I just... can't. And I can't tell him why. Jake has been so awesome, so understanding, and he never pushes me or asks me to do anything I'm not comfortable with. I don't think I could explain it to him if he asked me to, but I know he wants it.

Everything else we do, I can process. Kissing? I have a frame of reference for that. I've kissed dozens of people. Well, dozens of girls. But still, it's familiar. I'm good at kissing; I'm comfortable with it.

Even some of the other stuff we've done feels comfortable, safe, even though I've never been with another guy. When I'm touching him, getting him off, I feel like I know just what to do—I've jerked myself off enough times that I'm practically a fucking expert. Even fucking him feels right to me; it feels natural. I love making him come that way and feeling him tighten around me. I love looking into his eyes while I'm inside him.

So why can't I suck his dick?

It's not something I've ever pictured myself doing, or wanting to do. I never thought about it before Jake, and there's nothing analogous I can compare it to.

And yeah, there's a little voice in the back of my head telling me that it's wrong. That it's not okay to want it. That... to do this makes me a cocksucker. Just because I supported Jake before all this started doesn't mean I was immune to the cultural messages and the locker room trash talk; I just educated myself and rose above it, getting to know people like Jake and Seth on a deeper level.

It's just at times like this, with Jake spread out on my bed and his dick staring me in the face, that those messages come back in full force.

I swallow hard and shake my head to clear my thoughts. Nothing we're doing is wrong; loving Jake isn't wrong, fucking him isn't wrong, and neither is sleeping with his back pressed tightly against my chest. All of those things are pretty gay in and of themselves, so why do I only get anxious and scared whenever I think about sucking him off?

"Edward," Jake says, drawing me back to reality. His hand is warm and strong, reaching up to cup my jaw. I'm kneeling next to him, one hand wrapped loosely around his cock. "Baby, please."

Oh, right. He would probably like a little more friction now. My grip tightens automatically, and I resume the slow, smooth movements of my fist.

"Sorry, I was just..." I start, looking up into his eyes. I don't finish my sentence, surprised at how far gone he is. He's sweaty and panting, his mouth hanging open, and his eyes are rolling back in his head. It's almost four in the afternoon, and we've been fooling around for at least an hour, making out and rolling around together, kissing and touching and grinding, all while I've been obsessing about sucking his dick. I've been so wrapped up in my head that I haven't noticed how close Jake is to cumming already.

"God, don't stop," he moans, the fingers of his free hand tightening in the sheet below him. His other hand, his right one, is between us, resting on my hip.

"I wanna try something," I whisper, scooting backwards on my knees. I let go of his cock and lean over his body, resting one arm on each side of him. I kiss his chest, dropping a trail of kisses from one nipple to the other, and then down over his stomach.

"Stop, baby," he says, resting a hand on my shoulder. Shit, I think, I've already fucked it up. Panicked, I sit up on my knees and look down at Jake curiously.

"You don't want me to?" I ask, running my fingers through my hair.

"I just... I need to cum," he whines. "Don't tease me, okay? Just... touch me." He thinks I'm gonna tease him. He thinks this is gonna be like the other times, when I kissed my way down to his cock and left him wanting, only able to touch my lips to it briefly before the alarm bells in my head took over.

Tease. I think he's stumbled on the one word that might motivate me to actually try this. It sparks the competitive streak in me, the aggressive side that wants to prove to him that I'm not just a tease.

"I'll make you cum, Jake," I promise him, bending low to kiss down the trail of coarse hair leading to his dick. His eyes widen as he watches me kiss down to the base and then slowly, slowly, up his shaft. With tiny kisses, gentle ones, just like I've done before.

Nothing new, I tell myself. Nothing scary. I feel the panic flare briefly when I get to the head, and I feel drops of thick liquid under my lips. I let my tongue dart out briefly to taste it, to see what I'm in for, and Jake swears under his breath.

"Holy motherfucking shit, Edward." Both of his hands are clutching the pillow underneath his head now, his knuckles practically white with tension.

There's this moment where I'm looking up at him, his dick in my hand and the head of it just barely brushing my lips, and he looks so fucking turned on that it astounds me. I'm floored by the fact that anyone could want me this much, that he could want me this much. That he's probably dying to shove my head down, but he's holding back because he knows this isn't easy for me.

Somehow, just recognizing how much Jake cares makes it seem less daunting. I realize that every time I've made it this far before, I've been completely focused on the dick in front of me. I should have been focused on the person in front of me, on Jake, who loves me so much that he doesn't care about getting a blowjob. Who loves me so fucking much that he will make out with me like a teenager for an hour before he thinks about getting off, just to let me get comfortable.

As I part my lips and let my tongue slip out again, licking around the head of his dick deliberately this time, I still hear the voice in my head telling me no, wrong, stop. This time, though, it's overshadowed by the sound of Jake's heavy breathing, the rapid beating of his heart, and the soft little moan he makes when we make eye contact.

He loves this. He loves me.

I resist the urge to close my eyes, and keep them locked on Jake's. I think about everything he does to me, what feels the best, what looks the best, and I try out some different moves. I swirl my tongue around the head of his dick and lick him like an ice cream cone; the whole time my hand is sliding up and down, following my mouth, and I can feel him hot and pulsing under my hand.

"Jesus," Jake moans. "Oh, fuck, that feels so good. You look so hot, Edward, so fucking hot."

"Tell me if I do it wrong, okay?" I ask, lapping at another drop of the salty pre-cum sliding down the head of his cock.

"Baby, you can't do anything wrong, I pro—oh, fuck!" he cries, surprised when I wrap my lips around him and pull him slowly into my mouth. "Motherfuck, Edward, that's so good."

It feels strange. Odd to be filled like this, to be holding him in my mouth, to be thinking about things like how fast and how deep and watch your teeth. But it feels right, too, because it's Jake. Because his chest is flushed red and his hands are digging into that pillow and his voice is low and desperate, and it's me that's doing this to him.

I move slowly at first, testing the depth, seeing how much of him I can take in before the fear of gagging makes me stop. I know it's not much, not compared to what Jake can do, but I don't want to push myself. Not this first time.

Jake talks to me, keeping up a constant stream of praise mixed with swearing. "You're amazing. You're so fucking good. No one's ever made me feel this good. Shit, goddamn. I fucking love it, Edward. I love you and I love your mouth. Fuck."

I can't help but smile at that last one, and then I'm laughing at the idea of my smile stretched around his cock, and then I stop paying attention to what I'm doing, and I nearly choke on his dick. Sputtering, I pull back and cough to clear my throat.

Jake looks worried, and he lets go of his death grip on the pillow to reach out for me. "You okay? It's okay—you can stop. That was great for your first time, baby. So good."

I know he means to be tender and considerate, but I take his words as a challenge. Great for a first time? I'm shooting for just "great." Period.

"I'm not done," I growl, ducking down to take him into my mouth again. Jake leaves his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently and letting his fingers trail up and down my neck. He doesn't try to take control or set the pace. It's his way of keeping us connected, and it makes me feel a lot more comfortable.

"Yes!" Jake shouts, his other hand thumping loudly on the mattress beside him. I think I've found the right mixture of suction and speed, and I can tell he's getting close.

I think about what I like in this situation—firm, consistent pressure—and I wrap my hand around his dick again. It makes it easier for my mouth to cover what's left, and judging by the noises coming from Jake, this is just what he needs.

"Edward... has to be... now. Move. I'm fucking cumming, move!" he pants, trying to push at my shoulder. I'm determined to swallow around him, though, like he always does for me. To look into his eyes as he's cumming and give him the full experience.

Except... it's not that easy. As soon as he lets go and the first shot hits my throat, I'm panicking again. I pull away and spit into my hand automatically, unable to swallow the thick liquid in my mouth. It doesn't taste bad; I just wasn't ready for the texture and the heat.

Jake doesn't miss a beat, though, and his hand takes over where I left off. He groans through the rest of his orgasm, his cum spilling over his hand and his stomach.

When he's spent, his eyelids flutter closed and a sexy, lazy smile spreads slowly over his face. I climb up next to him, dropping my head onto his pillow and wait for him to look at me again.

"Wow," he says, grinning at me when he finally opens his eyes. "That was..."

"I'm sorry I—" I tell him, wanting to apologize for the way I bailed on him, but Jake leans over and kisses me hard.

"No apologies. That was amazing," he says.

"Yeah, but I kind of, uh, punked out there at the end," I argue, moving closer to him. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me into him so I can nuzzle his shoulder.

"You were perfect," he whispers. "How did you... how do you feel?"

"I thought I would be like, freaked out, and focused on what I was doing ... but mostly I was thinking about how you were feeling," I tell him honestly. My dick, still hard and throbbing, is trapped between us, and I grind into him slowly. I whisper in his ear conspiratorially, "I kinda liked it."

Jake growls, flips me over onto my back and kisses me fiercely. His post-orgasm lazy haze is over, and he's taking charge now, biting at my neck and my chest, holding me down flat against the bed as he moves down to my dick. He wastes no time with kissing or licking, just swallows me in one swift movement.

"Show off," I mumble, pushing up on my elbows so I can watch him. I love what he does to me, but now it's bittersweet; I'm going to have to practice so I can get better at this.


	15. Outtake: Fluffy Smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Jake's POV.

"Honey, you've checked that bag five thousand times," I tell Edward, tugging him towards the bed. "Everything's there."

We've packed a small bag with clothes for the baby to wear home from the hospital, a digital camera, a disposable camera (just in case), and about fifty other things Edward thinks we'll need on Friday. The c-section is scheduled for eight o'clock in the morning.

"I know, I just wanted to make sure I remembered to pack the hat that my mom knitted," he grumbles. "You mock me now, but I bet you'll be thanking me on Friday."

"You're such a boy scout. Always prepared," I tease him, crawling under the covers. He walks around to his side and turns off the light, crawling in after me.

"You didn't complain about me being prepared last weekend," he argues. True; when Edward pulled out the pocket-sized package of lube and fucked me in the middle of our hike in the woods last Saturday, I didn't complain for a second.

"Uh, no. You'll never hear me complain about that shit," I tell him, reaching out to hook my bare leg over his. I tug him closer under the covers.

"Are you gonna miss stuff like that?" he asks, shifting his upper body a little bit closer. Lying on our sides, facing each other in the dark-this is where we have our best, most honest communication.

"What do you mean?" I ask him.

"We won't be able to take off and go hiking all day anymore, you know. Hell, we won't even be able to sleep more than two hours at a time. We probably won't have the energy for sex for a while, even if we have the time, you know?" His fingers draw tentative circles on my chest, dragging through the smattering of dark chest hair. The touch is feather-light and makes me shiver.

"I don't think we'll have time to miss it at first," I tell him, lifting his hand up to my lips. I kiss each of his fingers, his palm, the inside of his wrist. "We're gonna be so busy adoring our baby girl that we won't care. And then we can always get Nana and Pop-Pop to babysit. Or Alice, or Bella, or Seth-"

"Seth is not watching our baby. He will try to pierce her ears," Edward grumbles.

"Okay, okay. Not Seth. But you know everyone's going to help, so I'm sure we can make time to sneak away at some point."

"Yeah, you're right," he says, brushing his thumb across my bottom lip.

"But maybe we should take advantage of the next few days," I suggest, dragging his hand back down to my chest. He takes over, trailing his fingers down over my stomach to the waistband of my underwear.

"Mmm, good idea," he says, slipping a finger underneath the elastic. "Maybe we should take our time and spend the whole night teasing each other," he suggests.

"Or maybe," I suggest, guiding his hand further down, "we should have fast, loud, crazy sex." He laughs and wraps his fingers around my semi-erect cock, coaxing it to its full length in seconds.

"Is that what you want tonight?" he asks, brushing his thumb against the underside of my tip. "Do you want me to fuck you? Make you scream?"

"Jesus, Edward," I groan, pulling him closer. "Your dirty mouth..."

"You love it," he argues, dipping his head down to kiss my chest. His tongue flicks out to swirl around my nipple as his thumb circles the head of my cock. "Mmm, you taste good. Tell me, Jakey."

"Tell you what?" I ask, my head lolling back in pleasure as Edward starts pumping my cock faster.

"Tell me what you want," he says, dragging his lips across my chest so he can lick and suck at my other nipple. His teeth are sharp, nipping at my skin, but he's never too rough with me.

"Want your cock," I whine, trying to wiggle my arm free so I can reach for it. Edward stops me, though, and pushes my arm down against the bed.

"Tell me where you want it," he demands, his voice low and dangerous. God, he's so fucking sexy when he's like this. I buck up against him, trying to get back some control, but Edward has me pinned to the bed with just one hand. His other hand is still wrapped around my cock, teasing and stroking.

"Jesus," I whine, moving my hips with his hand. Edward's mouth drifts up to my neck and he nips at the skin there, just a teasing bite.

"Come on, Jake. Tell me where," he repeats, taking his hand off my dick and lowering his body to mine. As much as I miss the consistent pressure, his body all over mine feels amazing. Even thought we've been doing this for years, even though he's my everything and he feels like home, it still thrills me every time his cock rubs against mine.

"Fuck, need you inside. Don't tease me, baby. I need it," I beg, clawing at his back now that my hands are free.

"Shit," Edward breathes, stretching over me so he can reach for the lube on the bedside table. He sits up, settling between my legs, and urges me to lift my knees. "You gonna be loud for me? he asks, slipping a slick finger between my cheeks.

"God, yes," I cry. I'm normally pretty vocal, but if Edward wants loud, I'm gonna give him loud.

"Get up, baby," Edward says, pulling his fingers away suddenly. "Get on your knees." He helps me, maneuvering me with his dry hand and positioning me how he wants, on all fours in the middle of our bed. I tuck my arms under my pillow and rest my head on it, turning it to the side so Edward can hear me moan as he starts touching me again.

"Is this enough? Two?" he asks, stretching me as he fucks me slowly with his fingers. "You want more?"

"Yeah, more," I tell him, pushing back against his hand. "Harder, Edward."

He loves my encouragement and he takes it to heart. It only takes two or three minutes before I'm panting, moaning, and begging for him to fuck me.

"Louder," Edward says, slipping his fingers out and leaving me empty.

"Fuck me!" I demand, twisting my neck so I can look at him over my shoulder. "Come on, E. Fuck my ass."

"Now who's got the dirty mouth?" he asks, smirking as he lines himself up. This might be my favorite part-the very best part out of all the things we do together on our fairly diverse sexual menu. This part where we're connected for the first time since the last time. Where Edward is so careful with me. Where I can't control my reactions anymore because I've given it all up to him.

"Fuck," he whispers, reaching up to rub the sensitive spot on the back of my neck. He makes soothing circles with his thumb while he eases his cock into me, taking a break from fast, rough, and dirty.

Until I'm ready. Until he's all the way in and sliding back out with ease.

Then it's fast again, and the hand that was soothing me minutes ago is squeezing my shoulder, pulling me back against him as he fucks me relentlessly.

"Yes! Harder!" I cry, moaning and mumbling and keeping Edward's request for loud at the forefront of my brain. I rest my weight on one arm, slipping the other beneath my body to stroke my aching dick.

"God, Jake," he whines, snapping his hips against mine. "So fucking hot. Love making you scream."

"Don't stop," I beg, feeling the pressure radiating from deep inside me. All my muscles tense as Edward slams into me, the head of his cock dragging right against that spot inside me that he knows best, and I scream and thrash as my body releases.

He fucks me right through my orgasm, leaving me gasping and sated, panting but completely relaxed.

"Jake," he says, his voice strained with the tension that comes from holding back his own orgasm. "I'm gonna cum, baby."

I want him to lose control just like I did. My arms tremble with the effort of holding myself up, but I do it for Edward, rocking back against his dick as he thrusts into me roughly.

He screams when he lets go, but whispers to me after.

"Love you, Jake. Fuck, you're so sexy," he breathes, dropping kisses over my shoulders and my neck. When he can't hold himself up anymore, he flops down onto his back next to me.

We both end up on our sides again, facing each other in the dark.

"I love it when you're loud," he whispers, reaching for my hand.

"I love it when you're rough," I counter, lacing my fingers through his.

"I love this part, too," he says, bringing our joined hands up between us. He presses them to his chest first and then moves them to mine.

I nod my head in agreement and snuggle closer. "Yeah, this is pretty much the best."


	16. Hotel Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edward's POV again. This takes place a year or so after the story ends.

"Are you sure?" Jake asks, buttoning the cuffs of his shirt. "I can stay home. There's no rush, E." I fix the knot in my tie, squaring and straightening it, before I turn back to him.

"I'm sure," I tell him, looking him in the eye. He leans forward and grabs my tie, using it to pull me in for a kiss. It's long and sweet and sure, and I'm kind of tempted to pull him into bed and forget about the fucking office Christmas party.

"Okay," he says, fixing the tie that he just rumpled. "But it's okay, if you don't want to. If you change your mind. Don't feel bad, is all I'm saying."

"Christ, Jake," I tell him. "My friends know, my parents know, all the co-workers I really care about know. It's not gonna be a big deal." He nods and laces his fingers through mine, following me down the hallway and out into the elevator of our apartment building. I lean against him once we're inside, waiting to descend, and he tightens his arm around my shoulder.

As much as I'm pretending to be confident about this, I'm still a little nervous. Jake knows, of course, but he's kind enough to stop asking about it once I shut him down.

Jake's come to a lot of office parties with me-the owner of my firm loves any excuse to rent out a hotel ballroom and live it up-but never quite like this. Never to the Christmas party, which is exclusively for employees and their families.

I thought about it long and hard before I even mentioned it to Jake. I didn't want him to be upset if I went alone, and skipping it entirely wasn't an option-so much good gossip and crucial sucking up happens at these parties.

I knew I had to make a decision before I told him about the party. I could go alone like I've done for the last few years... although that option seemed sad and empty. The thought of going without Jake, of leaving him behind, made me cringe. I could bring Jake along and introduce him as a friend... although that would be conspicuous to the gossip queens who already expected something was up with me. Not to mention the fact that it would probably hurt Jake's feelings.

Ultimately, I decided to be myself. The new version of myself, the one who loves his job, loves his boyfriend, and is happy with who he is. So I brought the invitation home a few weeks ago, gave it to Jake, and asked him to be my date.

"Are you sure?" he'd asked me then, the first of a dozen times, and I just nodded at him.

"Yup. Edward Cullen and family," I told him, pointing to the outside of the envelope. "That's you."

Jake drives so I can drink, and I spend most of the car ride to the hotel watching the muscles in his forearm move as he shifts. When we reach the hotel, the valet takes the keys and Jake takes my hand, leading me into the lobby. He's quiet as we walk towards the elevator, step inside, and push the button for the third floor. By some odd coincidence, we have the car to ourselves.

"Last chance," Jake mutters, just as the third floor lights up on the display.

"I'm not changing my mind," I assure him. The doors open into a wide hallway, and I immediately spot people that I know. Erin, from sales, and Mike, from marketing, are standing with their significant others outside the doors to the ballroom where the main party is being held. Erin waves excitedly as we walk up.

"Edward! We were just talking about you and that crazy Office Beer Pong you invented," she says, leaning up to kiss my cheek.

"It was Office Flip Cup," I correct her. "Although Office Beer Pong has a nice ring to it, maybe we should get to work on that one."

"You've met my husband, Rob, right?" she asks, starting a flurry of introductions. Erin's husband, Mike's girlfriend, and then... and then it's my turn.

"This is Jake," I tell them, nodding towards him. He's being a little quiet, standing at my side, but he reaches out to shake hands as I introduce him. Mike raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to clarify who Jake is. He looks confused, like he's waiting for me to explain that Jake's really my adopted brother or something. I should've said "This is Jake, my boyfriend," all at once. Now it's been too long and that would sound... weird.

Instead, I wait until he's done shaking everyone's hand, and then I grab his wrist before he can slip his hand back into his pocket. He looks startled, but then he relaxes and smiles shyly. I slide my hand down over his, tangle our fingers together, and squeeze.

Mike's eyes widen just a little bit. His girlfriend is looking at her fingernails, not paying any attention to us. Erin smiles warmly while her husband stares at her tits. No one says anything stupid, no one gives me the evil eye or asks awkward questions. We talk about office drinking games for a while, and then move into the ballroom to get drinks.

Jake doesn't hold my hand the whole night-I don't think we'll ever be that couple-but he stays close. Sometimes he rests his hand on my lower back, and sometimes I let my arm brush his as we stand side by side. He gets to meet my crazy co-workers, and I find myself leaning in to whisper reminders in his ear-"That's Crazy Carol," or "He's the one who's fucking his secretary."

Mr. Allen, my boss' boss, is wasted by nine o'clock. He's notorious for getting out of control at these things. He finds me sitting at an empty table, watching Jake as he walks across the room to get fresh beers for both of us.

"Cullen!" he spits. "How the hell are ya?"

"Good, Mr. Allen," I answer. He shakes my hand a little wildly, patting me roughly on the arm.

"One of these lookers here with you?" he asks, gesturing with his half-full glass towards a group of women dancing nearby.

"Nope, not one of them," I tell him, smiling as I see Jake turn towards us.

"Couldn't get a date?" he asks, chuckling as he drains the rest of his glass.

"I'm with him," I tell him, pointing towards Jake. He's holding two beers in one hand, making his way through the crowd.

"Neither of you could get a date?" Mr. Allen asks, incredulous.

"Uh, no," I clarify. Jake's a few feet away now, and I stand up to greet him. "This is Jake," I say, wrapping my arm around his waist. "Jake, this is our CFO, Mark Allen."

"Nice to meet you," Jake says, reaching out to shake hands. Mr. Allen rises to his feet unsteadily, abandoning his now-empty glass.

"Nice to meet you too, son. You gonna help Cullen here find a woman?" he asks, elbowing me and laughing at his own suggestion. Does he really not get it? I know he's not totally clueless, but he's pretty drunk. I might have to spell it out for him.

"No, Mark," I tell him, tightening my grip on Jake's waist. "I'm gay. This is my boyfriend, Jake."

He looks back and forth between the two of us, confused, and then nods in understanding. "In my day, a couple of fellas like you could've had any woman you wanted," he mumbles. "Truth be told, you're probably better off without them. Nothing but trouble," he adds, walking off towards the bar muttering something about "walking lawsuits."

I turn back to Jake and find him staring at me, his jaw slack.

"What?" I ask, tilting my head back to take a long pull from my beer.

"You just... do you know what you said?" he asks, dazed.

"That you're my boyfriend? Yeah, he's kind of oblivious when he's drunk," I tell him.

"No, you said... nevermind," Jake says, grinning. I point to where Mark is dancing his way through the crowd, trying to dance with any woman that will let him.

"At the Fourth of July party, he walked up to Eileen from the Portland office and said-"

"I love you," Jake says, interrupting my story.

"I love you, too," I tell him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Maybe you should slow it down with the beer," I suggest. He's grinning like a fool and his cheeks are flushed; he must be drunk already.

"Or..." he says, tilting his head up so his lips brush my ear, "we could just get a room, keep drinking, and then go upstairs and have hot, filthy hotel sex."

I pull away, drain my beer quickly, and set the empty bottle down on the table. "Let's go," I tell him, grabbing his hand so he'll follow as I head for the entrance.

"You wanna leave?" he says, disheartened. I wait until we're outside the main ballroom, until we're around the corner and near the elevator bank, before I speak.

"No," I tell him, pushing him up against the wall next to the elevator. "I wanna check in." I kiss him roughly, digging my fingers into his waist as we wait for the elevator to arrive. Jake hears the voices before I do and pushes me away just in time-some colleagues walk around the corner, their coats in their hands.

We make small talk with them as we head down to the main lobby, but Jake and I linger, pretending to look at a painting, when they head outside. He stalks over to the front desk and makes arrangements for the room, whipping out his credit card before I can offer to pay for it myself.

"Ready?" he asks, tucking the key card into his pocket.

"Yeah," I tell him, following him back to the elevator. We step inside and Jake pushes the button for the third floor. "Wait, what? Do you want to go back?"

"To the party? I thought we were going to hang out there for a while and get drunk?" he asks, confused.

"If you don't mind, I kinda want to skip ahead to the filthy hotel sex," I admit, backing him up against the wall of the elevator. The doors open at the third floor, and we stand perfectly still waiting for them to close again. The small space is filled with the sound of our heavy breathing, and I'm really fucking grateful the party is in full swing and no one else is trying to leave. When the doors close, Jake reaches over and hits the button for the twenty-second floor.

"Think anyone's gonna miss us?" he asks, dropping his head to my neck.

"Don't give a fuck," I tell him honestly, pressing my hips against his. We rock together, kissing and grinding in the elevator, until it slows up as we reach our floor.

"I wonder if there's a camera," Jake says, looking up at the ceiling.

"Want me to fuck you in here? I bet we'll find out if someone's watching," I offer. Jake laughs and pulls me out into the hallway as soon as the elevator reaches our floor.

"No thanks, I don't feel like getting arrested tonight. Pervert," he teases. I can't take my hands off him, groping him and tugging at his clothes even as we walk down the hallway, searching for our room. He pauses outside of it and fumbles with the keycard, giving me a chance to attack his neck with my lips.

"Hurry up," I urge, grinding against his ass.

"God, keep doing that," Jake whines, turning in my arms to embrace me, the keycard forgotten. He kisses me passionately, locks his arms around my neck, and falls back against the door.

"Baby," I groan, grabbing his wrists. I push them back against the door, holding his arms up over his head, and he whines in frustration. "Inside," I remind him, snatching the keycard out of his hand. I make quick work of the door and then stumble through, dragging Jake behind me. He tries to kiss me again, but I have other plans-I push him down so he falls back onto the bed.

He reaches up for me, looking sexy and fucking desperate, but I ignore his pleading eyes. I lift his legs up off the floor, one at a time, and tug off his shoes and socks.

"I thought you were in a hurry," Jake teases, pulling at the buttons on his shirt. I just raise an eyebrow at him and step closer, between his legs, and pull off his belt. He wanted hot, filthy hotel sex, and I fully intend on giving it to him. He lifts his hips a little, helping me get the belt off, and then smiles triumphantly when I climb up on the bed.

He tilts his head up, angling for a kiss, but I ignore him. I straddle his stomach and push his arms up over his head, holding them together like I did when I pushed him up against the door. This time, though, I loop his black leather belt around his wrists, pull it tight and slip the tail end through the buckle.

"... the fuck?" Jake says, tilting his head back to look at his bound wrists.

"Shhh," I tell him, bending down to kiss his open palm. I kiss down his arm, trailing my tongue over his bicep and ending in the curve of his neck. He moans, turns his head and searches for a kiss, but I ignore him and keep moving.

His shirt is unbuttoned, his broad, smooth chest exposed for me, and I leave a trail of wet, sloppy kisses over his pecs and his abs. I shuffle backwards off the bed, standing between his legs again, and tug at the fly on his pants. I pull them off in one swift motion and toss them to the floor. He's wearing these skimpy black briefs-something new, something I know he bought just to wear for me. God, he drives me crazy in these.

"You look," I breathe, falling down to my knees, "so fucking hot." I pull the elastic up, expose his hip, and lick along the crease where his leg meets his torso. Jake just whimpers, his other leg coming up to lock around my body. I play with his sexy little briefs, refusing to take them off. I pull them down, push them up, and kiss every inch of skin I expose. Not until he's panting hard, until he's begging for it, do I pull them down and expose his cock.

"Shit," he says, lifting his head to look down at me. I grin and make eye contact with him as I lick up from his balls to the thick head of his dick. "God, Edward. You make me so crazy."

"I love it," I tell him, between long, language licks and kisses. "I love making you this hard. I love this big, thick cock."

"Suck it, baby," Jake begs, lifting his hips up to meet me. "Come on, please. Need your mouth."

I decide to stop teasing him and give him what he wants. I wrap my lips around his dick and pull him into my mouth, starting up a steady rhythm. I know he wants his hands in my hair, and it's probably driving him crazy to be tied up right now, but I fucking love it. He would be holding me, trying to slow me down, to stop me from making him cum too fast. With Jake's hands tied up, though, I have complete control. I can bring him to the edge in seconds, using all the little tricks I've learned-like how to swallow around the head when it hits the back of my throat, or how Jake likes it when I nip at the base of his shaft with my teeth (but never near the head).

He's moaning and panting in minutes, thrusting up to meet me and babbling, "Yes, baby, yes..."

I know I can make him cum like this-with just a little more speed, or a finger in his tight ass, or even just a little humming around the head of his cock. But I can feel the little package of lube in my pocket pressing against my hip-I had a feeling we might end up needing it-and my dick is pressing painfully against the front of my pants.

"Fuck," he groans, his head flopping back against the bed when I pull away. I stand up over him and grab his legs, pulling his whole body down the bed a few inches, until his ass is starting to hang over the edge.

"No complaining," I tease, pulling out the travel-size package of lube. I toss it onto Jake's stomach and he grins as soon as he sees it.

"Were you planning this, Cullen?" he asks, wrapping both legs around my knees. I unbuckle my own belt and push my pants and my underwear down over my hips, freeing my aching cock.

"Not this," I admit, gesturing to the room around us.

"How about this?" he asks, lifting his bound wrists. I pull my suit jacket off and let it fall to the floor before I answer.

"No plans, Jake. Just going with the flow," I tell him. I loosen my tie and pull it off, then lift my shirt off over my head instead of fumbling with buttons. When I'm mostly naked, with just my pants around my knees, I lean down low to kiss him. He's all sweet and hot and his tongue is chasing mine-it's his shut-up-and-fuck-me kiss. "Okay?" I ask, squeezing his left hand gently before I stand up.

"Yeah," he says, his eyes glazed over with lust.

"Want me to fuck you?" I ask, ripping open the package of lube.

"God, yes," he says, his legs climbing higher up my body. I use a little of the lube on my fingers and push them into Jake quickly, stretching him. He's impatient, telling me he's had enough after only a few seconds, but I know he needs more. I make him wait, soothing him by resting my free hand on his chest.

"Edward, come on," he whines, when I push a third finger into his as. "Fuck me. Fuck me already, please."

"Shhhh," I tell him. "Okay, okay." I pull my fingers out and use the rest of the lube to coat my cock. I guide it into him slowly, pushing past the resistance until I'm buried inside him.

"So good," he whispers, his bound hands tightening into fists. "Fucking fill me up, E."

"I know what you want," I assure him. He needs it hard and fast tonight, and I'm going to give him exactly what he needs, as soon as he's ready. I'm not gonna hurt him. I move slowly, pressing in with firm, even pressure, and holding him steady as I pull out. It always takes a minute or two, even after I stretch him with my fingers, for Jake to really be ready.

He doesn't have to tell me, and I don't have to ask. I can see it in the set of his shoulders, the way his muscles start to relax, the way his dick seems to get harder.

"You're so fucking sexy," I whisper, lifting his hips with my hands. I push him backwards, up towards the pillows, and climb onto the bed between his legs. We stay connected the whole time. When I'm kneeling on the edge of the bed, with one foot on the floor, I pull back slightly. This time, when I thrust, I put every ounce of force into it. Every bit of fuck-me-hard, fill-me-up passion goes into that one thrust, and it moves us both further up the bed.

"Yes," Jake whines. I climb over him, fucking him in earnest now, moving our bodies further up the bed with sheer force. Fucking him is no longer enough, though, and I stretch my body over his to reach the belt holding his hands together. I can feel his lips on my shoulder, sliding down over my collarbone as I pull the leather from the buckle, unwind it, and free Jake's hands.

"Thank God," he says, wrapping his arms around my neck. He pulls my face down to his and kisses me passionately, sucking my tongue deep into his mouth as I move faster against him. He widens his legs, cradling my body between them, and trails his fingers down over my back. "Love you," he whispers, resting his palm on my ass.

"Love you, too," I tell him, pressing my forehead to his. "Get on top?" I ask, breathless from exertion. Jake doesn't answer, just rolls with me until I'm flat on my back. He keeps me inside him the whole time, even while he's arranging his long legs at my sides. I keep one hand on his hip but I let him control the pace, hoping he'll slow it down.

He doesn't. He still wants fast, and hard, and it feels fucking amazing, but I'm afraid I'm going to cum too fast. I want him to get there first, so I move both of my hands between us. I stroke him with my left hand, the one that's still slippery from lube, and use my right hand to cup his balls.

"Come on, Jake," I whimper. I'm the one begging now; I'm on my way to a mind-blowing orgasm, and I know I'll be useless to him if I cum first. His eyes are squeezed shut in concentration, his mouth open, and I can see him starting to lose it. My hand moves faster over his cock, and I relax as soon as I start to feel him twitching.

"Cumming, cumming, fuck," Jake cries, grinding his ass down against me. He spills over my hand and my stomach, immediately slumping over as he loses himself in his orgasm. He's not moving anymore, and I'm so fucking close that I just need a little more to put me over the edge. I put my hand flat on Jake's back, holding him steady, and thrust up into him a few more times. That's all it takes for me to cum inside him, my teeth digging into his shoulder as I ride it out.

We don't talk as we come down. Jake just flops down at my side, his body boneless and exhausted. Eventually he lifts himself up on his elbows to kiss me sweetly before making his way to the bathroom to clean up. When he comes back, he has a washcloth for me and a bottle of water for us to share.

Once we clean up and tidy up the room, pull the covers off the bed and snuggle down into the cool, clean sheets, Jake finally speaks up.

"That was fucking fantastic," he says, pulling me closer. I rest my head on his chest, letting him run his fingers through my hair.

"Mmm," I agree, pressing my lips to his shoulder. "Filthy hotel sex is the best."

"I don't know," Jake says, sounding skeptical. "I'm a pretty big fan of filthy outdoor sex."

"You're just filthy," I argue, earning a laugh.

"Yeah, maybe," he says. He's quiet again, just stroking my hair and breathing steadily, and I'm almost lulled to sleep by the rhythm of his chest moving beneath me.

"Hey, E?" he whispers, just as I'm about to nod off.

"Hmm?" I ask, covering a yawn.

"You do realize that you told that guy you're gay, right?" he says, dropping his hand down to my arm. He rubs up and down my forearm, stopping to brush his thumb over my knuckles every time he reaches my hand.

"What guy?" I ask, thinking back to all the introductions I made at the party.

"The boss guy. Allen or whatever. You said, 'I'm gay,' when you were talking to him," he says. I think back to my conversation with Mr. Allen: his confusion over why I wasn't with a girl, introducing him with Jake, having to explain that I was with him.

"Yeah? I guess I did," I tell Jake, not sure why he's bringing it up.

"It's just... the first time you've ever said it, is all. I was surprised," he whispers, holding me tighter against his chest. As far as we've come, as close as we are, there are definitely still moments when he's insecure. We talk about them, we deal with them, and we move on, but this obviously means something to Jake.

I don't want to downplay it for him, to say it's no big deal. I'm definitely not gonna tell him that I've said it before-to Emmett, once, and to Jasper's wife, Alice.

"I guess I've thought about it for a while," I tell him honestly, reaching for his hand. I lace my fingers through his and try to explain. "You know I've thought about it, and we've talked about it. And I guess... Well, I guess what I realized is that I don't plan on loving anyone else but you, for the rest of my life. So that makes me a man who loves men. A man who loves one man, technically, but... the point is, baby, I don't care if people call me gay or bi or whatever, as long as they know I'm yours."

"You're pretty fucking amazing," he breathes, pressing his lips to my temple.

"Yeah, I know," I tease, rolling away from him. "Wanna get dressed and go back to the party?"

"Um, I think I look pretty thoroughly fucked," he says, and I wiggle my eyebrows lasciviously.

"So?" I counter.

"So, I think we should just say here," he suggests. "Maybe order some room service. Drink some mini bar champagne." He kisses my neck and I sigh happily, flopping my head back onto the pillow.

"Sounds... perfect."


	17. Outtake: Switching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Jake's POV. This is a little whiplashy, sorry about that.
> 
> I wrote this in response to the #1 question I got about this story: does Edward ever bottom?

"Shit, Jake. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck. Don't stop," Edward cries, his back arching as he flexes against me. He's naked in our bed, legs spread wide so I can sit between them and play. I have one hand wrapped around his cock and the other between his legs, my fingers pressing inside and bringing him the kind of pleasure he rarely asks for.

"I'm not stopping," I tell him. "Not 'til you cum." I focus on making it happen, curling my fingers inside him and stroking him faster.

"Jake!" he gasps, his chest flushing bright red. "Jake, oh my God!" He's bucking against my fingers as his cock starts to twitch in my hand. I keep up a steady rhythm, working him until he's a spent, whimpering mess. When his body starts to calm, I let his cock fall against his abdomen and reach for the hand wipes in the nightstand.

I clean myself up and wipe the cum from Edward's belly while he lies there mumbling and humming, completely relaxed and smiling. He doesn't even open his eyes until I flop down beside him and lean in to kiss him softly.

"Damn, Black," he says, smiling. "That was amazing."

"You think so?" I tease, kissing him again. I pull him close, pressing my body into his, and he strokes my hip slowly.

"Again? Already?" he says, pulling away from the kiss when he feels my hard cock pressing against him. We started the evening with Edward on his knees, licking and sucking until I came in his mouth.

"What did you think would happen? I love watching you cum like that, it's so fucking hot," I tell him honestly.

"Hmm," he says, snaking a hand between us to wrap around my dick. "What are we going to do about this? I suppose I could jerk you off this time... or suck you again, that was fun..."

"Or I could just fuck you since you're all relaxed and loosened up," I tease, burying my face in the crook of his neck. I start to kiss and lick at his sensitive skin, but his whole body stiffens against mine.

"Baby, baby, I was just kidding," I assure him, wrapping an arm around his waist. I pepper small kisses down his throat and over his collarbone until he starts to relax.

"Were you really just kidding, or is that something you want?" he says, his voice quiet and contemplative.

I pull back a little so I can look at him, surprised to find him looking so vulnerable, wide eyes searching mine for answers. He looks curious, not disgusted. A year ago he would have laughed it off or given me an unequivocal "no." His confusion over coming out, being with me, and redefining his sexual identity took a long time to sort though. He's comfortable with himself now, happy with his life, but I had no idea he was at a point where he would consider switching things up sexually.

"I don't know," I tell him honestly, combing my fingers through his messy hair. "I mean, I love things the way they are. I love everything we do, you know? But that being said, I've topped before, a few times, and it can be... fun. I'd do it, if it's something you want."

"I don't know," he echoes. "I mean, I used to think that there was no way I'd ever want that. I guess I still can't really picture it. But the way you make me feel when you touch me there, Jake... God. It feels so good. It makes me wonder..."

I hold my breath, stroking his hair and peppering his shoulder and his neck with little kisses. Topping Edward has never been at the top of my list of fantasies, but I'm not about to count it out if he wants to try.

"Does it hurt?" he asks. "Seriously, be honest."

"Does it hurt when I use my fingers?" I ask, resting a hand on his shoulder. He thinks for a minute before shaking his head.

"Not really, I guess," he says.

"I'm not convinced, E," I tease, although my pride is a little wounded. If I've been hurting him even a little bit, I'm going to feel like crap.

"I mean, it hurts a little bit sometimes, when you start... but not in a bad way. It's like a bite or a spanking or something-it hurts a little, but it makes everything else so much... hotter."

"So what makes you think this would be different?" I ask, rocking against his hip so he can feel my cock pressing against him.

"Well your dick is definitely bigger than your finger," he says, using his hand to pull my body closer to his.

"It's not that much bigger than three fingers," I argue.

"Yeah, but you never put three fingers in my ass."

"Um... yeah, I do." I lift my head, look down at him, and grin at the wide-eyed look of surprise on his face.

"No way!" he argues.

"I had three fingers inside you fifteen minutes ago, Ed. You really didn't know?"

"Oh... Shit, really?" he asks. "I thought it was two. Really, three?"

"Three," I confirm, nodding slowly. I lean down to kiss his cheek and drag my lips over his stubbled cheek. He's quiet for a minute, contemplating, and I have to fight to resist the urge to grind against him.

"Let's do it," he says, his jaw set in determination. "I think we should try."

"Are you sure, Ed? I mean, we don't have to. Hell, I was just kidding when I brought it-"

"C'mon, I want to," he says. Something in his eyes gives me pause-he seems like he's more worried than excited-but then he pulls me down and gives me a long, passionate kiss.

I lose my objections in Edward's hot mouth, feeling myself melt into his kiss. He's even more demanding than usual. He kisses me hungrily, his tongue thrusting and searching while his left hand grips the back of my neck.

"Fuck!" I gasp, sucking in a deep breath when he finally lets me pull away. I drop my head down for more, but Edward is rolling away from me.

"Get a condom," he says, picking up the bottle of lube I had discarded earlier. He scrambles up onto his knees and squeezes some lube onto his finger tips, reaching backwards awkwardly to prepare himself. I watch as he pushes a single fingertip inside and then pulls it out, spreading the lube around. I can't help stroking myself a little as I roll the condom down the length of my dick.

It's been years since I've topped anyone; I like it enough, although I don't enjoy it nearly as much as I enjoy being on the receiving end. The only thing that makes me nervous is the idea of doing this with Edward-with someone I love so much. I can try to make it good for him, but what if he hates it?

"C'mon, Jake," he says, reaching out to grab my hand. He tugs me closer before letting go and falling forward onto his hands and knees. "I'm ready."

"Are you sure, Edward? Maybe some more lube-"

"Jake, just do it," he says, bending low to rest on his forearms.

I crawl behind him, kneeling between his legs, and rest a hand on his shoulder to steady myself. He's tense, every muscle in his back flexed and coiled tight.

"Alright, babe. Relax for me," I tell him, smoothing my hand over his back, from his shoulder to his waist. "This isn't going to work if you don't relax."

"I'm good," he says. "I'm relaxed." He isn't, but I suppose a little anxiety is normal. I think back to my first time, how scared I was until I realized that it would actually feel good. I stroke his back, his ass, and his thighs, trying to soothe him as I shuffle closer and line myself up.

"Okay, just breathe," I tell him, gripping my cock in one hand and dragging it up and down between his cheeks. He takes a deep breath and holds it, his entire body rigid and braced against me. "Honey, breathe out."

He breathes out slowly and his muscles relax a little. I push forward with my cock, trying to move inside him, but despite all the stretching and playing and lube, he's clenched tight.

"Ed, you have to relax," I tell him, pulling back so I can tease his hole with my finger while I stroke my cock with my free hand. "You know how to do this, it's just like when I touch you here. Do you want to be on your back?"

"No, just try again," he says. He inhales deeply again and exhales forcefully. I grip my cock tightly and try to push inside, but once again-nothing. I can't even begin to breach him.

"Babe, maybe we should just wait," I tell him, jerking myself quickly to try to keep my erection from flagging. As much as Edward turns me on, watching him brace himself like he's about to be beaten isn't doing anything for my hard-on. I know that no amount of coaxing, petting, or fingering is going to get me into his ass tonight, but Edward is determined.

"Just do it, Jake. Just get it in," he says, and I roll my eyes behind his back. I give it one more try, waiting until Edward exhales loudly and rests his forehead on the pillow.

Nothing.

"Come on, get it over with," he says, turning his head to look over his shoulder at me. His words sting, and I feel my dick losing its hardness in my hand. I shake my head at him and tug the condom off over my deflating cock.

"I can't. We can't do this, Ed. Not like this, not tonight," I tell him, falling to my side next to him. I reach up to pull him down close to me, but he scrambles off the bed instead of curling up in my arms. "Don't get mad, baby. We can try again some other time."

"It's fine," he says, reaching for his robe on the way to the bathroom.

"Edward-" I call, but he keeps walking, hurrying into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Shit.

I try to imagine what he's thinking, how he feels, but it's hard to get past my own feelings. I know Edward probably has issues with bottoming, but it doesn't make me feel very desirable to hear "get it over with."

Maybe Edward really doesn't want to get fucked... or maybe he doesn't want me to fuck him.

I hear the shower running and I grab Edward's pillow, holding it close to me as I imagine him throwing his bathrobe in the corner and getting into a scalding hot shower on his own. I hate this fucking feeling, like he's shutting me out again after all the hard work we've done to get to this point. I hate that I feel like I failed him. I hate that he's in there and I'm in here.

It feels too much like how we used to be, then. Before we figured out how to talk about what we need and what we're afraid of. I don't want to be like that again, not even for one night.

I throw the covers back and cross the room quickly. Slipping into the bathroom, I blink at the steam filling the tiny space.

"Edward?"

"I'm in the shower," he says, his voice curt.

"Yeah, I can see that. I'm coming in," I warn him, pulling the curtain back so I can step inside.

"I just need a minute to myself, Jake," he says, crossing his arms over his chest. His skin is flushing red from the heat and his hair is covered in shampoo lather.

"You can have time to yourself after you talk to me about what happened in there," I tell him, reaching out to spin him around until he's facing the spray. I lift my hands up and massage his scalp, guiding his head under the water to rinse out the soap.

"It's not a big deal," he says, shrugging his shoulders.

"It is to me," I whisper. He doesn't react, doesn't move, and I realize he probably didn't hear me over the sound of the water running. He isn't making this easy on me, but I've learned a lot about relationships in my time with Edward. The most important lesson I've learned is that I can't bottle up my emotions, no matter how hard it is to share them. And I can't let Edward do it, either. "Edward, it is to me. It's a big deal," I tell him, raising my voice so he can hear.

He turns slowly, wiping the leftover shampoo from his temples, and shakes his head.

"I'm sorry," he mouths, the sound getting lost in the sound of the water.

"Babe, there's nothing to be sorry for. We tried, it didn't work this time, it's okay," I tell him, reaching out to wrap my arms around his waist. He lets me pull him close this time and rests his head on my shoulder.

"I just couldn't-"

"It's not easy for everyone, Edward. We can try again after you're more relaxed, I'll spend more time getting you ready, and-"

"No, Jake. It's not that... I mean, physically, I think I can take it. I just felt... shit, Jake..." he says, lifting his head to whisper into my ear. "I couldn't let you do it. I felt weak. I felt ashamed."

"Edward," I breathe, cupping his face in my hands. He tries to look away but I hold his gaze, forcing him to look into my eyes. A year ago, his words would have put me on the defensive, made me think he saw me as weak. Now, though, I know that he just needs some reassurance. "You know it doesn't make you weak. There's nothing wrong with me fucking you, just like there's nothing wrong with you fucking me."

"I know," he says, nodding into my hands.

"And if you never want it? If I never fuck you like that? That's okay, too. We do what's right for us, for both of us, remember?" I tell him. He nods again, tilting his head down so his lips brush my thumb. "You can't let yourself get hung up on this one thing."

"I know," he says. "I know. I'm sorry I overreacted." I drop my hands to his shoulders and he leans in closer, kissing my lips softly.

"You okay?" I ask, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"You still want some time to yourself?" I ask, gently.

"No way," he says, grinning as he steps back and pulls me under the spray with him. "I need you to stay and wash my back."

He doesn't bring it up again for months.

Our sex life is great, loving and fun and hot as hell, but we don't talk about Edward bottoming again. I resolved six months ago not to bring it up or even entertain the idea until he's ready-no, until he's begging.

"You home, Jacob?" Edward calls, moving through the apartment.

"In here!" I yell. I'm sprawled out on our bed in just my underwear, Edward's laptop open in front of me, a video paused on the screen.

"Hey," he says, pulling at his tie as he comes through the door. "Thank God it's fucking Friday."

"Oh, it's fucking Friday alright," I tease, turning the laptop towards him so he can see the screen.

"A new one? Fuck yes," he says, pulling his button-down shirt off over his head. We have a subscription to a porn website; it's expensive, but we'd rather pay for a few high quality videos a month than sift through all the terrible stuff on xtube. "Who is it?"

"Your favorite, Austin, the big guy with the blue eyes," I tell him. "And you'll never guess what he's doing."

"Did you watch it already?" he chastises, stripping down to just his boxers before climbing into bed with me.

"No, I just read the description." Edward leans down to kiss me, tearing my attention away from the computer. He's slow and soft, nipping at my bottom lip and kissing my cheeks and my nose.

"Hey," he says, dropping his forehead to mine.

"Hey," I whisper, grinning at his sweetness.

"So what is it that I'm never gonna guess?" he asks, leaning back against the pillows stacked up next to our headboard.

"Look at the title," I tell him, pressing play on the video. I make it full screen and then balance the laptop on Edward's knee, scrambling to sit next to him. He wraps an arm around me, tucking me close.

"No way," he says, as soon as the title ("Mark fucks Austin") shows up on the screen. "No fucking way!"

"Apparently there is enough money in the universe." Austin is one of our favorite regular performers, but he always tops. In the little pre-scene and post-scene interviews, the director always tries to convince him to try bottoming, but so far he's steadfastly refused.

We watch as the director interviews the performers, quizzing Austin on why he's finally broken down and agreed to bottom.

"I just never pictured myself doing it before," he says. "I was afraid of the pain, afraid I couldn't take it. But then I got to know Mark here around the house, and he's such a good guy. I know he won't let anything bad happen to me, so I figured... why not give it a shot?"

"Bullshit," Edward says. "They just kept offering him more and more money until he couldn't refuse."

"Who cares why? Just take your clothes off, boys," I murmur, skipping the video forward a little, past the "getting to know you" stuff.

Usually we make it about five minutes into a twenty minute video before one of us gets too horny to pay attention, but this one is riveting. The foreplay is standard, but the expressions on Austin's face as he is slowly and carefully penetrated for the first time are priceless. He flickers through fear and pain, and finally lands on something between pleasure and surprise.

"Oh! Oh Jesus! Oh shit, I'm coming!" he shouts, bucking hard against the guy topping him, whining and moaning as he shoots all over his chest.

We've watched his cum face a dozen times. It's never, ever looked this real, raw, or sexy.

"Holy shit," Edward mumbles, watching as Austin gasps for air, coming back down after what appears to be the most intense orgasm he's ever had (at least on camera).

"That was fucking hot," I whisper, slipping my hand under the waistband of my boxer briefs. My cock is already rock hard, and I shudder at the intensity as I wrap my fingers around it.

"No shit," Edward says, his eyes on my hand moving beneath my underwear. He moves the laptop to my other side and starts kissing his way down my neck, my shoulders, and over my chest. My eyes move from his lips traveling down over my torso to the movie still rolling on the computer screen; I can see Edward watching it too. He hooks his finger in the waistband of my underwear and pulls them down over my hand and my dick.

"Yeah," I whisper, letting go as Edward bats my hand away. He doesn't waste any time with teasing licks or kisses, just lowers his head and wraps his lips around my cock. "Yesssss. That feels so fucking good."

I don't know if Edward can even see the video anymore, but I get to watch as the top finishes by cumming on Austin's chest and abs. It's almost too much, Edward's mouth on me and the visual stimulation in front of me, but I manage to hold on.

"You're so hard," Edward murmurs, pulling off of my dick. He kisses the head, swirling his tongue around it, and licks up the shaft. "I love your cock."

"It loves you," I tease, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. I try to pull him closer, encourage him to envelop me in his mouth again, but he pulls back a little.

"Jake, I want to try again," he says, kissing my hip and stroking my cock with one hand. "I'm ready."

I know exactly what he means when his eyes dart to the computer screen and then back to mine.

"Feeling inspired by someone?" I ask, combing my fingers through his hair.

"Sort of," he admits, sitting up on his knees next to me. "Part of me thinks, if that guy can take it, so can I. But really... I mean, if he can let someone he's friends with fuck him, why can't I let my boyfriend? I know you won't hurt me. I know you'll make it good. I want to try."

I ponder his words for just a few seconds, sighing happily as Edward continues stroking my cock. The last time we tried this was kind of a disaster, but Edward seems a lot more open to it now.

"Okay," I tell him, and Edward smiles shyly. "But we're just going to try, okay? It's okay to stop if you're not into it, or if it doesn't feel good, or whatever. This is supposed to be fun, you know?"

"Fun," he says, smirking at me. "Got it."

I pull him down on top of me and kiss him, tickling his ribs as I go, and we roll around in bed for a few minutes just making out like teenagers. I nearly crush Edward's laptop at one point, and he swears under his breath as he closes it and moves it to the nightstand. When he turns back to me, he's holding a bottle of lube.

"You want to do the honors?" he asks, waving it in front of me like a prize. I snatch it from his hand and kiss him again, wrestling with him a little until he's on his back and I'm on top.

"Poor Edward," I sigh, shuffling to my knees. I bend low and swipe the head of his cock with my tongue, teasing him just a little as I pour the lube onto my fingers. "You have to suffer through this part. I know how much you hate it," I tease.

He pulls his knees up and back, lifting one leg up and over my head so I'm situated between his knees. This is good for us, it's comfortable, it's familiar. My lips on his cock, my tongue teasing every inch of him, my fingers pressing and exploring and stretching. He groans and bucks up against me, like he always does, but he listens when I soothe him, remind him to be patient.

"That's good, Jake," he says, his body relaxed enough to take two fingers easily. "I'm ready."

"You'll be ready when I say you're ready," I tell him, lowering my head to suck him deep into my mouth.

"Shit, shit, shit," Edward hisses. "You gotta stop that. You're gonna make me cum."

"But it's so fun," I tease, probing with a third finger. He hisses when I slip all three inside, fucking him slowly and twisting, turning to try to relax the muscles around my fingers. I don't want him to cum yet, so I keep him on the edge with little licks and kisses to his cock and his balls while I prepare him.

The next time he tells me he's ready, his voice is low and desperate, and I know he's telling the truth. I don't know if it was the movie or if Edward just needed time to process this, but he's so much calmer this time around that I feel calm, too. Confident that I can make this feel good for him, that we can try this and not worry about the consequences.

I lean over him and grab a condom from the nightstand. Edward breathes heavily, his hand stroking his dick lightly as he watches me roll the condom down my cock and lube it up. "How do you want to be?" I ask, remembering a time when Edward asked me the same question, when our relationship was still so new and raw.

I rest my hand on his knee, and Edward links his pinkie finger with mine.

"Spoons, maybe?" he asks, shrugging his shoulders. "That seems gentle."

"Yeah, it is," I tell him, falling down on my side next to him. I kiss him softly, and trail my lips over his jaw and his neck as he turns in my arms. "Give me your leg, here," I whisper, pulling his top leg back over my body.

"Jake?" he says, his voice calm even as he feels my cock rubbing against him. "I love you. I'm glad we're doing this."

"I love you too," I whisper, kissing his shoulder. I reach down and grip my cock firmly, aligning it with his entrance, and I decide he needs to take it at his own pace. "Edward, you move, okay? I'm gonna hold still, and you just push back and take me in. Go as slow as you need to, baby."

"Okay," he says, reaching behind him with one arm, wrapping his fingers around my shoulder.

Slowly, carefully, he pushes against my cock. He controls the pace, he breathes through the stretch, and this time... this time it happens so easily, so naturally, that it's hard to imagine it any other way. He rocks back and forth slowly, taking a little more of my cock inside him each time.

"How does it feel?" I ask, nipping at his neck to distract myself from the intense pleasure of being inside him.

"Feels... okay. Full. Good," he says, gasping a little as he gets used to the sensations. When I'm fully seated inside him, I move my hand away from where we're joined and wrap it around Edward's body. I love it when he holds me this way, and I want him to feel the way I do-secure, loved, complete.

"I'm gonna move with you, okay?" I ask, squeezing him tightly.

"Yeah, do it," he says, his hand finding mine in front of our bodies. He grips my wrist and inhales sharply as I pull back.

When I push forward, thrusting into him for the first time, he moans.

"It does feel good, doesn't it?" I ask.

"Yeah," he whimpers. "Feels good. Fuck, Jake!"

I force myself to keep things slow and gentle. It's a struggle not to lose it, because I'm so hard and his ass is so tight, but I don't want to push him. I want him to enjoy every minute of this. My hand drifts down over his body, wraps around his half-hard dick, and starts stroking in time with my thrusts.

"God, I love this big dick," I whisper, knowing the dirty talk will get his hard-on back despite his nerves about the situation. "The only bad thing about fucking you, Ed, is that I don't get this inside me."

"Fuck," he breathes, his erection growing in my hand.

"Tell me what to do. What would you do if you were fucking me, Edward? How would you make me scream and cum so hard I pass out?"

"Oh, shit," he says. "Shit. I... I'd put you on your hands and knees."

"Yeah? So you could fuck me harder?"

"Yeah," he moans.

I thrust deep inside him and hold myself still, ignoring the urge building in my body to thrust hard and fast until I get off. Carefully I roll him to his stomach, kneeling behind him, working to keep us connected while he positions himself on his hands and knees.

"You okay? This feels okay?" I ask, squeezing his shoulder affectionately.

"Yes."

"Can I go harder?"

"Fuck yes!"

I move faster and faster against him as Edward balances on one arm, the other disappearing beneath him to tend to his cock.

"You feel amazing," I tell him, dragging my fingertips over the sweat-slicked skin of his back. "God, you feel so good. I don't know how long I can last, Edward," I warn him.

"Just a little... a little more," he says, turning to look at me over his shoulder. "This feels so much better than your fingers."

"God, Edward," I whine, feeling my orgasm barreling down on me like a freight train. I don't think I can stop it now, even if I pull out. "Please, cum for me. Please, please..."

"Oh fuck! Don't... don't stop!" he screeches, his body going stiff as his hips twitch and his ass tightens around me. "Don't stop, Jake! I'm cumming! Don't stop... fuck... fuck me!"

"Thank God," I groan, pistoning my hips against his and letting go. I cum hard, the force of it folding my body in two, and I drop my chest to Edward's back as my cock throbs inside him. "I fucking love you," I whisper, kissing his neck and his shoulders as we both collapse onto the bed.

Edward says nothing, still trying to catch his breath as I roll onto my back, pulling him with me. He's warm and pliable, his muscles relaxed against mine. The only sign of distress I see is a small hiss when I pull my softening cock out of him-I know that feeling, the sudden emptiness and lack of pressure disconcerting after being so full.

"You okay?" I ask, tying the condom off and tossing it in the bedside trash can.

"I think so," he says, wiping his hand off on the sheet below him. "That was fucking intense."

"That was intense fucking," I tease, and Edward grins.

"Did you like it?" he asks, kissing my chest.

"Yeah, I liked it. I'd still rather have you fuck me, any day of the week, but this was fun. What about you? How do you feel after all that worrying?"

He smirks and lays his head on my chest, curling into my side. "Honestly?"

"Of course honestly."

"It felt good... I mean, obviously it felt good, it made me cum," he says, tilting his head so he can look up into my eyes. "But I'd much rather fuck you, any day of the week."

"Well now we know," I tell him, brushing the hair away from his sweaty forehead. "I'm glad we tried, but I'm happy with the way things usually go."

"Me too," Edward says. "I just... I really wanted to be with you like that. I want to be able to love you in every way humanly possible. Thank you."

"You're thanking me? You're the one who's gonna be walking funny tomorrow," I tease, cupping his cheek. I kiss him softly and pull him a little closer, wanting nothing more than to curl up in his arms for the rest of the night.

"You flatter yourself, Black," he teases, tickling my side. "Give me twenty minutes and I'll show you how it's done."

"Promise?" I ask, biting my lip in anticipation. Edward laughs and pulls me on top of him, cradling me in the crook of his arm.

"Promise."


	18. Outtake: Back to Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An outtake from Edward's POV, from before the story took place.

The night I met Kate, she walked up to me at a club, shoved a lime into my mouth, downed a shot of tequila, then sucked the lime while it was still clenched between my teeth. She's pretty much the coolest girl I've ever met. Definitely a free spirit, not the kind of girl I'd be able to count on and have a stable relationship with, but I never miss a chance to hook up with her when she calls.

That was the case earlier tonight-I'd been having drinks with Jake and his friend Seth when my phone lit up around midnight.

"Gotta run, fellas," I told them, clapping Jake on the back. "There's a lady who requires my assistance."

"Requires your dick," Seth muttered, taking a swig of his martini.

"Exactly, Seth. Glad you understand." I threw a twenty dollar bill on the bar, then offered another to Jake. "You guys need cab fare?" I felt obligated to offer, since I had driven us all to the bar.

"We can walk," Jake said, just as Seth reached over my shoulder and snatched the bill from my hand.

"Bitch, please. You can walk. These are brand new Gucci loafers."

I laughed as Jake rolled his eyes and offered me his fist to bump. "Have fun, man."

"You too," I told him, bumping his fist.

I met up with Kate at her apartment, where she answered the door wearing only a tiny black thong.

"Took you long enough, Cullen," she said, pulling me inside by the lapels on my jacket.

Kate's really sweet when she's sleeping, soft and small and nuzzled into my chest. It's quite a contrast to the wild, sexy girl who rode me like a bucking bronco earlier.

The thing is, even though it's nice to have a warm body pressed against mine, I always have trouble sleeping here. Thankfully she understands, doesn't mind waking up alone as long as I don't leap out of bed the second we're done fucking.

I push a few strands of her blonde hair away from her face and kiss her forehead before gently rolling her onto her back. She hums and fumbles for the sheets, pulling them up as I slide off the bed.

"You taking off?" she whispers, barely awake.

"Yeah, but call me tomorrow, okay?" I ask, knowing that she won't.

"Yeah, 'course," she says, blinking up at me. She won't call until she's drunk and horny again.

"Thanks, babe." I bend down and kiss her sweetly, and she smiles before turning her face into the pillow and curling up under the covers.

I let myself out, taking care to lock the door behind me. I check my phone in the quiet hallway, wondering if it's too late to meet up with Jake again, but it's after three. He'll definitely be home sleeping... or he won't come back until the morning. Jake's not one to hook up and then sneak out in the middle of the night.

It kills me that Jake can't seem to find a nice guy. His last boyfriend, Paul, was a tool of the highest order-he was manipulative and just generally shitty the entire time he was with Jake. Even though he was a douchebag, Jake was devastated when he caught Paul cheating on him.

It was a really rough time for Jake, and honestly, it was bad for me too. Jake's been my best friend for years, and it killed me to see him so brokenhearted. First I wanted to kick Paul's ass, but Jake talked me out of that by tactfully reminding me that Paul had fifty pounds on me. Then I tried taking Jake out, hooking him up with guys, but I turned out to be a pretty terrible gay matchmaker. I was pulling out all the stops until Jake finally stopped me a few weeks ago.

"Dude," he said one night, putting his hand on my forearm. I was trying to drag him off the couch to go out to a happy hour to meet one of my co-workers, a reasonably good-looking guy who was maybe (probably-almost certainly) gay. "You are an awesome friend, and I appreciate you trying to, uh, get me back out there, but you gotta stop fixing me up."

"Are you not ready yet?" I asked, tilting my head in concern.

"No, you're just really bad at this," Jake said, a shy smile on his face. He punched at me playfully, then dropped back onto our couch. "Seriously, the last guy you tried to introduce me to was like, a carbon copy of your dad."

"So?" I teased, flopping down on the opposite end of the couch. "My dad's awesome. You could do worse."

"Yeah, but do I want to be thinking about your dad while I'm having sex?"

I winced. "Yeah, okay. No more interfering in Jake's love life." I pulled at my tie, loosening the knot, and kicked off my shoes.

"You're not gonna go to the happy hour?"

"Nah," I told him, unbuttoning the top button of my shirt. "I'd rather just hang out with you."

Truth is, I'd rather hang out with Jake than almost anyone. That's part of the reason I never stay over with Kate or any of the other girls I hook up with-I'd miss breakfast with Jake and swapping stories over the newspaper.

I'm quiet as I approach our apartment and let myself in, exhausted and conscious of the hour, and I shut the door softly behind me. Jake's shoes are sitting by the door, as are Seth's (clearly not Gucci) loafers. I expect the find the little sneak asleep on our couch, so I tiptoe around the corner, only to be stopped in my tracks.

Seth's on the couch, but he's not asleep; he's straddling Jake's lap.

Seth's hands are resting on the back of the sofa, and Jake's hands are fucking everywhere-he's cupping Seth's ass, then stroking his back, gripping the back of his neck and sliding into his thick black hair. They're kissing, the kind of drunken, sloppy making out that looks ridiculous but always feels overwhelming and sexy.

I feel like a creep, standing here staring at them, but I'm kind of fascinated, too. Jake always goes for big, masculine guys, and Seth is just... well, neither of those things. I've teased Jake before about dating Seth, and he just rolls his eyes and laughs at me.

I start to move past them, hoping I can slip by undetected, but Seth pulls away from the kiss, laughing, and opens his eyes.

"You are a terrible kisser, Ja-oh, Jesus!" he shouts and jumps off of Jake's lap as soon as he sees me. "You scared the shit out of me, Edward," he says, his hands pressed to his chest.

"When did you get home?" Jake asks, straightening his rumpled shirt and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips are red and swollen, his skin flushed, and it looks like they've been at it for a while.

"Uh, yeah. Just now. Sorry, I didn't know you guys were..."

"We're not," Jake spits out. "We were just fooling around."

"Yeah, I can see that," I tell him. As soon as the words come out, I wince-why do I sound pissed off? I swallow hard and try to even out my tone. "It's cool, sorry I scared you, Seth. Goodnight, Jake."

Seth shrugs and moves to crawl back into Jake's lap. As I pass by, heading straight for my bedroom, I catch a glimpse of Jake shoving Seth off to the side.

I don't really breathe until I close my bedroom door, and then it all comes out in one heavy sigh. There's something tight in my chest, like I pulled a muscle, and I stretch my arms out over my head as I stumble to bed in the dark. I can hear the muffled voices of Jake and Seth talking as I unbutton my shirt, and Jake's bedroom door closes a few seconds later.

I wonder which side of it Seth's on.

I unzip my pants and push them down, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and climb into bed in my boxers.

It's three thirty in the morning, and I nearly fell asleep on the drive home, so there's no reason for me to be wide awake right now. No reason for the adrenaline flowing through my veins, no reason I should be clenching my fists. There's definitely no reason I should be pissed at Seth, but I am. I want to go out there and kick his ass out of our apartment.

Lying in bed with my eyes wide open, I tell myself that I'm just feeling protective. That Jake's been hurt, and Seth's not right for him, isn't going to take care of him like... like someone else could.

The sharp sound of a knock startles me, but before I can say anything I realize it's someone knocking on Jake's door, not mine.

"Jakey, I need another pillow," I hear Seth whine. "Your couch is lumpy and I have a delicate spine."

That weird tightness in my chest eases up a little.

I hear Jake yell something that sounds like "fuck off," and Seth complains about the couch again, knocking louder. I grab an extra pillow, jump out of bed, and stride over to the door. When I peek my head out, Jake's door is open too, and Seth is arguing with him in a hushed voice.

"You need this?" I ask, holding up the pillow.

"You, Edward, are a gentleman," Seth says, taking the pillow from my hands gratefully. "'Night, boys."

Jake watches him walk down the hall back to the living room. I watch Jake watch Seth.

"Everything alright, man?" Jake asks, turning back to me. He has one thick eyebrow raised and his head cocked to the side. There's just enough moonlight spilling out of his bedroom for me to see a hickey blooming on his neck.

Just for a split second, I see myself crossing the hallway to his doorway, pushing him inside, and fitting my lips to his neck. Making my own mark there, dragging my lips up to his, kissing away every memory he has of Seth and any other guy he's ever kissed.

"Yeah," I say instead, gripping the doorframe to stop myself from moving. "All good."

"Cool," Jake says, turning back to his bedroom. "'Night."

As soon as he's gone, I close my door and dive back into bed. My cock is half hard in my underwear by the time I'm under the sheets, and I can hear the loud thumping of my own heartbeat. I close my eyes and try to think of Kate, the way she looked on top of me earlier tonight, and I let myself reach down and push my boxers down over my hips.

Kate. I'll just think about Kate, and her perfect tits, and the way her mouth feels on my cock, and that will be enough to erase the weirdness of the last half hour.

I spit into my palm and start stroking myself in earnest, focusing on my memories of Kate, ignoring the way my traitor of a subconscious keeps slipping images of Jake in with her.

I even grab my cell phone from the nightstand and pull up the nudes Kate's texted me, keeping my eyes locked on her smooth, pale skin while I bring myself off.

I try not to close my eyes until Kate's image is burned into my brain, until I know I'm about to come.

But when I do close my eyes, when I let go, all I can see is Jake. Possessiveness and pride and lust surge through me and I'm coming harder than I did when I was with Kate tonight. Harder than I have in a long time.

Fuck. This is... not good.

I catch my breath, then reach for a t-shirt to do a half-ass job of cleaning up. I'm suddenly exhausted, barely able to keep my eyes open, and I glance at the clock. I woke up early today-before five-to work out before going to the office, and I've been awake for almost twenty-four hours.

It must be sleep deprivation-that's the only explanation for my emo state and fucked up sexual fantasies.

I throw the t-shirt back in the direction of the dirty laundry and roll over onto my side, closing my eyes. I'm still feeling something I can't shake-guilt, maybe, or just confusion-but sleep is quickly taking over.

The sooner I sleep, the sooner it will be morning, and I can have coffee and read the paper with Jake.

Everything will go back to normal.


End file.
